


Letters From Afar

by RyanTyler2294



Series: PenPals [1]
Category: DC Animated Universe, DC Cinematic Universe, DCU, DCU (Comics), Smallville
Genre: M/M, READ MY PROFILE BEFORE READING THIS FIC, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-14 11:34:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9179812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RyanTyler2294/pseuds/RyanTyler2294
Summary: Bruce gets a penpal. He's not too thrilled about it and doesn't feel the need to write back. It's not like he and this kid are going to become friends anyways.





	1. I Don't Want To

**Author's Note:**

> Read my profile before reading this fic.  
> I started writing this last year! It's completely written from beginning to end, it just needs to be edited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce receives the first letter. He has no plans to write back.

Bruce was an adventurous child by nature: he liked to go for walks and play in his backyard. The world seemed so vast to him at this age. He wanted to know everything, he wanted to see everything! To him, there weren't enough hours in the day for him to do everything he wanted!

Then his parents died and his life came to a stop. He didn't even want to come out of his room. At first, Alfred let the boy be. The process of grieving could be a long one at this age. With the trauma he was suffering, it could take a while before he would be able to function.

Alfred tried to be accommodating. He would bring his food to his room, and make sure the boy would wash and groom himself. When he was done with chores he would sit in the room with the child and read to him. It was a week before Bruce started to talk again, and a month before he left his room.

The school year would be starting up soon and Alfred had hoped that he would be ready to go outside by then.

That didn't happen.

Bruce wasn't the kind of child to cry or fuss, but he broke down crying when Alfred said he would have to go to school. That was how he ended up homeschooling the boy. It didn't take much out of his day to give him his lessons. Bruce excelled at almost every subject. With independent studies, he was able to move at his own pace. It wasn't long before he was ahead of his level in academics.

Yet, he wasn't able to interact with kids his own age. The boy had no friends. He kept saying he didn't want any when Alfred suggested a play date or anything of the sort.

He took matters into his own hands. The local school had a pen-pal program. He had to pull a few strings, but he managed to sign Bruce up for it as well.

"You write to them." He explained to Bruce.

"Why would I want to?"

"You'll get to talk to someone who has a different way of life. You might even make friends."

"I don't want to."

"But he already wrote to you." Alfred handed him the envelope. "It would be rude not to reply."

Bruce frowned but took the letter anyways and open it.

_Dear Bruce,_

_My name is Clark. I live in Kansas in a town called Smallville. My house is on a farm. Every day I help my family out with the chores on the property. I usually only help with the chickens and the cows. Sometimes Dad lets me drive the tractor. Mostly I just collect eggs and get the milk in the morning. I also get to miss school for a few weeks when the harvest comes around. It’s only hard because I have to wake up really early._

_I go to school in town. It’s far from the farm so the drive is long. My mom packs my lunch and snacks for school. Sometimes my dad drives me into town to do the shopping. If I’m lucky he lets me buy a comic book or two. Do you read comic books?_

_I play in the town baseball league. I’m not that good unless I focus so I’m one of the last ones up to bat, and almost never get to play outfield. I still like to play with my friends._

_What’s it like where you live? Do you like to play sports? What are your hobbies?_

_I look forwards to hearing from you,_

_Clark Kent_

Bruce looked over the letter three times before he folded it out it back in the envelope and placed it on his desk. He knew that the pen-pal program was most likely a school assignment: this Kent kid didn’t want to get to know him, he wanted to get a good grade and complete his assignment.

“It won’t hurt to send a letter back,” Alfred said. A gentle hand came to rest on Bruce’s shoulder. The boy looked up at him still frowning. It was starting to turn into a pout. “Just write him a few times and see if you like it. If you don’t I’ll let it be, but I think it’s something you should try.”

“Maybe,” Bruce looked away. The gears in his head were turning. “When is dinner ready?”

“It should be done in a bit,” Alfred said. “I’ll look over whatever you write if you need me to.” He left the conversation off about the note to ensure that Bruce would think about it. He knows that he can’t force him to do anything, he could only hope that Bruce would take this as a chance to reach out and talk to someone.

But Bruce was stubborn. He didn’t go near a pen or paper for a few weeks, and when Alfred asked if he was working on a draft, he would switch the subjects. He had taken to sulking in the shadows of the mansion. Alfred had to lay off in fear that Bruce might lock himself in his room again.

“I’m not going to do it,” Bruce finally said. “I don’t want to talk with some strange kid from across the country just because he wants an A in English.”

Alfred nodded and told him that it was okay. The next step was to start brainstorming on something else to get Bruce to socialize. Maybe he should try setting up a play date again. There must be a kid in the area around Bruce’s age who would like to hang out with him. The only issue was if Bruce wanted to hang out with them.

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first chapter is a little short, but it will pick up. This whole story is done being written I'm just putting the final touches on the last few chapters. So yeah, I hope you guys stick around to the end. Let me know what you think ^^


	2. Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark is waiting expectantly for his penpal to write him back. He's starting to think that Bruce doesn't like him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We get to see what going on from Clarks POV!

Clark sat at his desk and watched as all the other kids get letters back from their pen-pals. All but him. This was the second batch of letters to come back, and it was getting embarrassing. On days when they used time in class to work on their letters, Clark had to do an assignment from his English book.

He had been hoping that Bruce was just taking his time writing his letter, but this had gone on for the better part of a month. The teacher gave him an apologetic smile. He tried to focus on his worksheet and hone in his hearing to just his pencil scraping against the paper. He didn’t want to hear the other kids gushing about their pen-pals.

Lana and Pete were nice about it. Lana had insisted that Bruce was taking his time or that the deadline had slipped past him. Pete shook his head and explained that with Clark’s luck, both letters might be lost in the mail. Clark thanked them for trying to be upbeat about it.

“It’s not important anyway,” Clark shrugged. “It’s just a project for English. None of this will matter next year.”

“Not writing back is rude.” Lana scowled. “He could at least send one to let you know he doesn't plan…”

“That defeats the whole point,” Pete interrupted.

“What point?” Lana crossed her arms and waited for whatever Pete’s explanation was going to be.

“He’s probably that bad kid who doesn’t do work,” Pete explained. “He ain’t gonna just send a letter that says ‘hey, I’m not gonna write back,’ because to him this is just another assignment. It’s not a big deal if he never does it.”

Lana huffed like she was about to say more, but kept her mouth shut instead. Clark kept his gaze on the ground as he tried to think. What Pete said made sense, but he was hoping it was something else. Maybe Bruce wrote the address down wrong and it went to the wrong place. He could only imagine the confusion that would happen when it arrived. The people who got the letter trying to figure out why this Bruce kid was sending them a letter. Or worse! What if Clark had been the one to write the address down wrong?

What if Bruce had been the one sitting and waiting all this time thinking that Clark never wrote him? Clark could feel his stomach drop. He had to call upon his eidetic memory as he thought back to when he addressed the envelope. His teacher had been there with him and double checked to make sure he wrote it down right. All the other kids sent their letters to the school. But Bruce was a “special circumstance” his were sent to his home. The teacher had to give him a different address than the one written on the board for the class. He double checked the piece of paper she had given him when he wrote it on the envelope. He remembered it being correct.

There goes that idea. He sighed as he ascended the small set of stairs to get on the bus. This wasn’t the worst thing that could happen. Yes, it would be awkward while the other kids were still getting their letters, but he would live through it.

“Hey,” Lana tapped him on his shoulder. He had to turn around to face her since she was in the seat behind him. “If he doesn’t write you then I will, alright?”

“Thanks, Lana.”

“Yeah!” Pete chimed in. “We can have our own code, and send secret messages and stuff!”

Clark allowed himself to smile. He couldn’t deny that he had good friends. They were the only two in his grade who talked to him since he broke the wall in the bathroom at the movies. The building had been old so Pa was able to reason with the owner that its decaying state was to blame. But Clark knows that he’s a freak. He’s not like the other kids, and from what he overheard from his parents, he might not even be human.

As selfish as it may sound, he was hoping that Bruce would write back so he would have a clean slate. Bruce doesn’t know him and has never heard of him. He wouldn’t know about the things he’s broken, or the time when he set the corn on fire, or how he floats when he’s nervous. He would only see him for who he was and not his weird powers.

It just wasn’t meant to be.

He said goodbye to his friends once his stop came up, walking down the long driveway to get to his house. The corn had grown high by this time of year. It was something he had gotten used to, so it didn’t scare him when the rows of corn obscured his view of the house. Sometimes, he actually thought he could see right through the corn for a second or two. He just chalked it up to his good memory allowing him to remember the house like it was.

Ma was in the kitchen when he finally made it in. She was preserving some of the apples that their neighbors had brought over. Part of him was disappointed. When he saw the bushels being brought in last night, he was hoping that pie was somewhere in the near future.

“Hey sweetie,” Ma was putting a lid on a fresh jar of jam. “How was school?”

“Good.” He shrugged off his coat and put it on the coat stand.

“What was good about it?”

He always hated when she asked that. Aside from Lana and Pete, there wasn’t anything good about school. The other kids always teased him or didn’t want to be around him. There was no in-between. Pete tried his best to intervene, but there was only but so much he could do. And Lana was in a completely different class. It made school miserable. He didn’t want to go anymore, but he didn’t want to tell his parents that. It would break their hearts.

“Lunch,” he gave a small smile. Martha Kent just raised an eyebrow but smirked as she understood it was a joke.

“Only lunch?” She questioned him a bit more, but there was a playful tone to her voice.

“Nothing bad happened, so that makes it a good day.” He shrugged. It wasn’t too big of a lie. None of the kids had gone out of their way to be mean to him today. He only heard their mean comments because of his super hearing: even when he was concentrating, it’s hard to not pick up on other conversations.

The general consensus had been that Clark was so weird that even Bruce didn’t want to write back to him. He could sense he was a freak from miles away and knew it was best to cut off contact now, even if it meant a failing grade. Clark ignored them. The comments were still eating at him, but he tried not to let it show.

“Nothing else on your mind?” Martha asked. “You look down.”

Clark sighed. Nothing gets past Ma. “I still haven’t gotten a letter back. All the other kids have already got at least two and are working on the ones they’re going to send back on Friday.” He sat down at the kitchen table as he explained his woes. “It’s embarrassing to be the only one who hasn’t heard back yet.”

“I’m sure Bruce has a good reason.” Martha took a seat next to him.

“That’s what I keep telling myself, but it still stinks. I just wish I knew why.”

“You just have to be patient. I’m sure he’ll write back at least once,” She gave him a reassuring smile.

“What if he doesn’t?”

“Then it’s for a good reason.” She mused. So even she was having a hard time explaining this away.

He went to get up, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“I know right now you’re thinking the worst, but Clark, I’m sure it’s nothing against you.” She rubbed his back and Clark just huffed to voice that he didn’t believe her. “He might just be shy.”

“Shy?”

“Um-hm, he might be too shy to write back. You never know because we don’t know what he’s going through. Things might be hard for him, or he just doesn’t want a pen-pal. What I’m trying to say, is that the last reason for him not writing back is you. You’re a good kid Clark, and there was nothing in that letter that wouldn’t want to make someone write back to you. You just have to be patient.”

“I just…I was really hoping he would write back, and we could become friends or something.” It was embarrassing to admit that he had a whole scenario plotted out in his head of how things would go. He wouldn’t share all of it with anyone, but he could admit this small bit out loud. He longed for another friend, and he knew it wasn’t going to be anyone else from this town.

“If he writes back, then I’m sure you guys will hit it off, but don’t let this eat you up, sweetie.” She kissed his forehead. “Just give him time.”

“Alright,” Clark sighed. “I’m gonna go to my room and get some homework done.”

There was no use in sulking about it anymore. It was just a letter. He wasn’t going to die if this kid never wrote back, no matter how much he wanted him to. He knows he can endure pointless English assignments for the rest of the year. It’s an easy grade, and he could use the extra points.

So while everyone else was continuing to get letters, he kept his worksheets. He became less bitter about it, and was even able to talk to Pete and Lana about what their pen-pals had sent them.

Fall had passed and Winter Break was right around the corner. Another batch of letters had come in and was handed out during the class Christmas party. Much to Clark's surprise, his teacher smiled at him as she placed an envelope on his desk. He gasped and almost floated out of his chair as he looked at the folded paper on his desk.

“No way!” He thought he said it in his head, but he must have said it out loud because Pete responded to him.

“Told ya he would write back.”

Clark knows he’s causing a bit of a scene, but he couldn’t help it. He had been waiting so long to the point where he had just learned not to expect anything, but here it was. He couldn't contain his excitement at he inspected the envelope. He noted that Bruce had very neat handwriting. The spelling of his name was carefully written on the front of the envelope, and the letter was a bit heavier than he expected.

He opened it carefully.

“What does it say?” Pete was out of his seat and looking over his shoulder.

“I don’t know yet,” Clark had finally slipped the paper from its confines and had started to unfold it. He was surprised to find that it wasn’t just lined paper, but stationary that had a winter themed border.

“Pete, back to your seat,” The teacher sighed. Pete grumbled something under his breath as he did as he was told. It left Clark to read the letter by himself.

_Dear Clark,_

_First, let me apologize for not writing back sooner. I had trouble collecting my thoughts to make sure I gave you an adequate response. Your life on your family farm sounds nice. Driving a tractor sounds like fun. Alfred would never let me drive anything like that._

_As you know, my name is Bruce Wayne, I live in Gotham. I live in the suburbs so there aren’t that many buildings and stores around. It only takes a short drive to get to town, so it’s not like we’re isolated. I don’t go to public school: for the time being, I’m home schooled. I’m supposed to be enrolled in a private school next year._

_I haven’t played sports since gym class last year. My favorite was soccer. I think I might try out for the team when I enroll in school again. I don’t have that many hobbies. I spend most of my time in my room reading when I’m not doing school work. I like mystery books the best._

_I also like comic books. My favorite series is The Gray Ghost. I have every issue that’s ever been released, and the whole show on VHS! I collect figurines and other things related to the series as well. I even managed to get the actor to sign my poster._

_Yours Truly,_

_Bruce Wayne_

_P.S. Inside is a Gray Ghost phone charm. I wanted to get you something to apologize for taking so long._

Clark looked back in the envelope and found the item Bruce was talking about. He couldn’t fight the grin that broke across his face. The letter had been short and sweet, but there was a lot of thought behind it.

He held the small charm in his hand and inspected the small character of the Gray Ghost. It was more cartoon-like than in the comics. It was cute and more rounded in its features such as the face and hands.

“Don’t forget.” The teacher’s voice rose above the noise of the classroom as the bell rang to signal the end of school. “Have a draft of your next letter ready for when you guys get back. We’ll revise them in class.”

Clark was going to start his the moment he got home.

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've posted two chapters so that it doesn't feel like I'm not being skimpy. Lol. Let me know what you think.


	3. Anticipation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce finally decides to send a letter right before the start of Winter Break. As he waits Alfred tries to help keep his minds off thing and get through the holidays.

Bruce had been nervous when he put the letter in the mailbox: it had taken the better part of two months for him to decide to write back. There hadn’t been a particular reason for his change of heart, he told himself, but the days seemed to drag on longer the more he stayed in the mansion. He was lonely, even with Alfred in the house.

He had pulled out Clark's letter a few times so he could re-read it. The folded lines were starting to tear from how many times he had opened and closed it. Sometimes he imagined what it would be like if he wrote back to the kid. He could imagine them becoming good friends through text, but that didn’t matter. When the school year ended, so would the letters. It would be pointless to try and start something over this.

Still, he kept getting drawn back to it. He knew every word of it without looking. He found comfort in looking at Clark’s messy handwriting. He could see how he tried to be neat in the beginning but got excited as he was writing and lost form. He must have been eager to write this. Maybe he was hoping for some sort of a friendship as well.

Which was another thing that stuck out to Bruce? Clark didn’t mention having any friends. Maybe it was because it was the first letter and he wasn’t telling everything? Or maybe he was lonely, like Bruce was?

The thought plagued him for weeks. He didn’t know this kid, but he was starting to feel guilty for standing him up. It was in those moments that he would remember that it was only he and Alfred in this giant house, and no one else. None of his relatives had come to claim him, and none of his families’ friends came to check on him. Alfred was all he had, and even he wouldn’t be around forever. He was sure the man would leave on the day of his eighteenth birthday, so he could be free of Bruce’s constant moping.

So he picked up a pen and a piece of paper and started to write. He would keep the letter simple. He decided he should do the first draft before he mailed it, he didn’t know what he would do if there was a spelling error of some sort. Every time he started a new draft, the letter would get longer.

He started to write about his Gray Ghost collection in response to Clark asking him about comic books. As he wrote he could only wonder what Clark’s response would be. Most people his age knew what the Gray Ghost was only because of his show. If Clark collected comic books then maybe he could talk about it more. The more he thought about it, the more he could feel fondness bubbling up in his chest.

He brought his final draft to Alfred so he could give it one last look over. He could tell the man was excited that he decided to write back. He was glad that Alfred made sure not to draw attention to it. He made a few corrections and handed the paper back to Bruce.

“Would you like to use the stationary?” Alfred asked him. “It seems most appropriate for the occasion.”

“I guess,” Bruce shrugged. “Nothing fancy, though. I don’t want it to look too…ya know.”

“I’m afraid I’m not sure what word you’re thinking of sir. But I’m sure we could find something to your liking.”

Bruce picked the light blue paper with the white snowflake border. He took a few pieces up to his room as he carefully scowled what he had written before onto the good paper. Once he was satisfied with it, he folded it to slide it into the envelope Alfred had given him.

He was looking for the stamps when he spotted one of his many Gray Ghost key chains. This particular one was made to be attached to a backpack. He held it in his hands for a few seconds before he slipped into the envelope alongside the letter. He was about to seal it when he pulled out the letter and added one last part.

Finally, he sealed the letter and put the proper address on the front.

“I want to mail it,” Bruce had presented the envelope to Alfred. The man smiled and said to just give him a second to grab his coat. Then another five minutes were spent making sure Bruce was bundled against the cold.

Bruce still remembers watching his puffs breath becoming visible from the cold as he stood in front of the Gotham post office. He pulled the handle the blue box so he could drop the letter down the slot, but now he was second guessing himself. What if Clark didn’t want anything to do with him anymore? He wouldn’t blame the guy.

“I’m sure he’ll like you just fine,” Alfred smiled at him when he saw him hesitate. Bruce frowned and looked up at him. Adults always thought they knew best, and that reassuring words helped. But Bruce was aware of reality and the risks that actions had. He also knew that nothing happened when you stay in the same place. So against his better judgment, he dropped the letter down the slot.

“How long do you think it will take to get there?” Bruce asked as he reached for Alfred’s hand. Most kids his age would protest having to hold their guardian's hand, but Bruce understood the precaution. There had been a time when kidnappers had tried to pull him away from Alfred. The ransom for him would have been high if Alfred hadn’t fought them off.

“A few weeks,” Alfred admitted. “I’m sure you’ll hear from him in a month or so.”

The rest of the month was spent with a lot of waiting. They were approaching the end of December, and Alfred was decorating the house with lights and cheesy Christmas decorations. The tree already stood in the living room, bare and without any ornaments.

“Won’t you come help me?” Alfred looked up to the second-floor landing where Bruce was watching him. “Together we could have this place done within the hour.”

“What’s the point?” Bruce pouted. He didn’t move from his spot. He had no plans for decorating anything. All he could even think of right now was how it used to be the four of them decorating together. Mom was always the one to untangle the lights, and Dad was the king of cookie decorating.

It was times like these when he missed his parents the most. Alfred had tried to coax him out of the room on Thanksgiving. He refused to eat any of the dishes that the butler had slaved over. Alfred didn’t yell at him. Instead, he came upstairs with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and milk. They sat in Bruce’s room and ate them in silence.

“I’m not ready for this either,” Alfred had said. “The holidays won’t ever feel the same but, I think we can make our own traditions. I know Masters Thomas and Martha wouldn’t want us so sad that we can’t enjoy the holidays.”

Bruce didn't look at him as he spoke.

“I understand Master Bruce, but I have to try.” Alfred always seemed to know what he was thinking. “I’m going to at least prepare and if you don’t want to participate then we can do something else, but I have to try.”

Bruce scowled at the memory as he watched Alfred putter about the living room. He knows the butler is only one person, but he was setting everything up completely wrong. His mom always had a particular was that she arranged the house on the holidays. Everything had a place, and everything was in its place.

“That’s wrong,” Bruce descended the stairs. “Those are in the wrong place.”

“What’s where?” Alfred asked in confusion as Bruce pick up the manger scene and put it in its rightful spot under the tree. He made himself busy putting everything where it belongs. Alfred got the lights ready for the tree. Somewhere between one of the Christmas CDs started playing.

It was nice. Despite the absence of his parents, he was able to function able to enjoy himself. It wasn’t until one of his favorite songs came on that he started to feel tears prickle in the corners of his eyes. He could still remember how his mom used to dance him around the living room. She would pass him off to his father who would dip him and twirl him to the beat.

He wiped his face trying not to cry. Alfred was already there, pulling the boy into his arms and giving him the time that he needed to recover.

They had takeout on Christmas day. They couldn't bring themselves to go through the family cookbooks. Using his mother's recipes would bring back too much. She didn’t cook that often since that was Alfred’s job, but she took pride in making the holiday meal. And his dad would make dessert.

Bruce found himself unable to open his presents the day of. The boxes sat there until New Years. He finally brought them up to his room and put the wrapped boxes in his closet. He knows Alfred had been hoping to see him open them, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

He was distracted by the constant reminded of his loss. Then a full month had passed without a response from Clark. He kept checking the mailbox even after the mailman was long gone for the day. It was maddening waiting for a response. He worried that Clark would never respond. He sighed every time he thought about it. The irony wasn’t lost on him.

Alfred would often bring him on errands once he was done with school work to help keep his mind off of things. He didn’t always look forwards to them. It was cold out now and he found himself wearing many layers to keep warm.

Today was different. They were heading towards a crowd of people waiting in line. Just the sheer number of people had Bruce clinging to Alfred’s hand. It wasn’t until they got closer that they realized what this line was for.

“Ice skating?” Bruce looked up at Alfred. “I’ve never done this before.”

“There’s a first time for everything Master Bruce,” The butler said as he helped him lace up his skates.

“I’m going to fall.”

“You haven’t even gotten on the ice yet,” Alfred chuckled despite Bruce’s scowl. “I’ll have you know, I’m quite steady on skates. I’ll be right there in case you start to fall.”

“I can’t get out of this can I?”

“I would like you to try.” Alfred was helping him stand. “You might find that you like it.”

“It’s not like I’ll use this for something important later.”

“Who knows, maybe one day you’ll take a girl you like here. It’s a good date sight.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Bruce pouted.

“You say that now. Things may change.”

Bruce was by no means good at skating. The only reason he was still on two feet was because Alfred had held up to his end of the barging and didn’t let go. He still found himself having fun. The highlight of the night was when he managed to glide in a straight line by himself. Alfred was cheering him on the whole time and caught him just as he was about to tip over.

“That wasn’t so bad now was it?” Alfred smiled at him.

“It was fun.”

He had exhausted all of his energy in his attempts to skate and passed out the moment he got home. His tummy was still filled with the warmth of the hot chocolate that they had gotten. Alfred let him sleep in late through morning lessons since he was so tired. He was greeted with a light brunch in the afternoon.

“This came in for you,” Alfred handed him an envelope.

Bruce felt his heart leap out of his chest. Clark’s distinct handwriting was on the front. He had written back! He picked up the letter opener and gently cut the top of the envelope so he could get to the paper inside.

_Dear Bruce,_

_Thank you for the keychain. I put it in my backpack. All the kids in my class think it looks cool. It’s okay that it took you a while to respond. I’m just glad to hear that you’re okay._

_I hope you make it on the soccer team when you try out. Make sure to let me know if you do._

_I also like the Gray Ghost series. I only have a few issues, though. It makes it hard to keep up with the storyline, but I filled in the blank with the T.V series. It still airs sometimes in Kansas. I always thought it was cool that he had no powers and is still a superhero! It kind of reminds me of Captain America but without the serum and with a lot more detective work._

_Also, happy holidays! How did you spend your Winter break? We were lucky and the weather was pretty mild. We didn’t get too cold this time around, though it would have been nice to have a white Christmas._

_I helped Ma and Pa with dinner. A few of my relatives came over. Which was nice, but I’m the youngest of my cousins so they don’t talk to me too much, but it’s nice to have a full gathering._

_The rest of vacation was spent prepping the fields. We’re about to get past the worst of Winter so we need to get ready to rotate the crops again so the soil doesn’t lose nutrients._

_Other than that not much has happened. School started back up since Winter break is over. It’s kind of boring though. My friend Pete is in the same class as me, so it’s not all bad._

_Can’t wait to hear from you,_

_Clark Kent._

Bruce had mixed feelings about the letter. One of the main reasons for him writing Clark back was because he thought Clark was just as lonely as he was. But it seemed like Clark did have friends of some sort. He didn’t know how to feel about this revelation.

At the same time, he was happy to hear that he liked the keychain and that he wasn’t mad about him taking so long to reply. The one thing that stuck out to him the most was Clark’s curiosity of him making the team. Bruce wouldn’t even get the chance to try out until the start of the next school year. If he were to let Clark know he as on the team, it would mean they would have to stay in contact until the next year.

His stomach fluttered and he found himself nervous at the idea of it. This is what he wanted, but now he wasn’t sure what to do

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what ya'll think!


	4. Pressure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark's power development spikes. It leaves him in a lot of distress.

There are times when Clark forgets that people are cruel.

He had just finished conferencing with his teacher about his letter. She only checked it for grammar and structure. Because letters could be personal she would take them to another room to talk.

“I’m so glad he wrote back,” his teacher smiled in relief. “I was so happy for you when I saw in the pile.” There was a special system in place when it came to the pen-pal program. The letters were written in class and sent in bulk to the school. The only reason why Bruce got his individually was because he was home schooled. It left Bruce to his own devices to mail his letter.  

“He just needed time to collect his thoughts.” Clark swung his feet as he spoke. “He seems nice.”

The teacher started to read the letter out loud so that Clark could see where she was correcting and why. She told him to make sure that there were a few direct questions so Bruce would have something to reply to.

He was still walking on air when he got back to the classroom, and he started to make the changes the teacher had suggested on another piece of paper. He was going to make sure that this letter was perfect. He had been working on the first draft all throughout winter break, and he couldn’t wait to send his letter out at the end of the week.

He was so happy he didn’t even care about the other kids talking about him when they thought he couldn’t hear them.

And then he went to his locker to find it had been pried open. His backpack was still in there, but Clark still did a quick inventory of his stuff. His heart stopped when he realized that the Gray Ghost key chain that Bruce had sent him was gone. He felt a wave of panic at the realization and checked the bottom of his locker to see if it had just fallen off. It was nowhere to be found.

He gave his locker one last look over before he gave up. Maybe he dropped it on his way to school? No, he remembers running his fingers over the plastic for luck before he went to class.

He turned and looked at his classmates who were all starting to file out of the building. He honed in his hearing to see if anyone was talking about it. If one of them took it then they were probably standing around and waiting to see his reaction. No luck. All he got were pieces of conversation. People whispering to each other about the fact that he had been staring too long.

Whoever did this must have just done it just to be cruel. He didn’t feel any better knowing that. His heart dropped in his stomach. He could tell the teacher, but he knew no one would fess up to it, and it would only cause him more trouble in the long run. So, with a heavy heart, he put on his coat, slung his bag over his shoulder and left the building with Lana and Pete.

He didn’t tell Ma about what happened when he got home. He just wanted to pretend like it never happened at all. The last reference that he made to it was in his letter where he made sure to thank Bruce for sending it in the first place.

His letter was mailed at the end of the week, and the waiting process began again. He wondered if Bruce would take as long as he did with the last letter. Maybe now that they had the ball rolling, he would be a little faster.

He didn’t have much time to think of it. His strength was starting to get out of hand and his x-ray vision was kicking in. It was terrifying. When he told Pete about it, in the form of a hypothetical question, he made dirty jokes about being able to see under girls’ clothes. But it was nothing like that. He was seeing through their clothes and skin leaving him with a gory image of the human body.

He had no idea how to control it and took a week off from school as he tried to get a handle on it. The whole time he found himself recalibrating the way he touched, walked and talked so that he didn’t hurt anyone. He couldn’t yell without hurting people’s ears and when he was frustrated it left him unable to express himself.

He wanted more than a week, but he couldn’t afford to miss that much time. He was growing used to only being able to see skeletons, as much as it freaked him out. He had to rely on his hearing to know exactly who he was talking to.

He hated it. After school, he would blaze through his homework so he could go out on the roof and look at the sky. His x-ray vision worked there because there was nothing to see though. It gave him a sense of peace until Pa told him that he had to come down.

His mother had given him a pair of glasses that she said might help. He wasn’t sure where she had found them, but they did help him with his supervision. He was far-sighted, and could see for miles if there wasn’t anything in his way: the problem was that the x-ray vision eliminated those obstacles and left him unable to focus on what was right in front of him. The glasses helped and he was able to see again, even if it was through objects.

Then his super hearing started to go through more development. He found himself constantly having to sort through an onslaught of sounds. Smallville was a quiet place, but hearing everything was killing him. For miles, he could hear from the quietest of conversation to the scraping of a pencil against paper. It was driving him up a wall, and he couldn’t concentrate on school work. When he came home he just wanted to curl up in bed and try to tune out all the noise.

He had a constant migraine as he tried to keep up with processing all the information that was coming to him. It felt impossible, and he just wanted it all to stop. One day, he got the bright idea to treat his hearing like his vision. He concentrated his hearing upwards. Aside from the wind and the occasional airplane, it was quiet. As long he kept focus he would be fine.

Pete had heard about his dilemma, not understanding the full extent of the situation, he came to the rescue with a pair of earmuffs. It didn’t do anything for Clark, but he appreciated it and wore them anyways. The whole time he went through his powers being in flux, Lana and Pete were there. They thought he was just sick, but Clark appreciated their presence. Ma and Pa only allowed them up when his powers weren’t dangerous to the people around him.  They still stopped by after school every day to see if he could have visitors. 

It wasn’t until his heat vision started to kick in that he completely isolated himself. He pushed his dresser in front of the door and wouldn’t even let his parents up. He stayed curled up in bed with his eyes tightly shut. He could feel the heat behind his eyelids and had to focus on trying to control it. But during all this, he lost control of his hearing and his mind filled with thousands of bits of sound at once.

It was maddening. It was overwhelming.

He wanted it to stop. Even if it only let up for a few minutes, he would be relieved. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to go on like this. There was a constant onslaught of useless information,  that caused a continuous stress on his body as he tried to keep his strength in check.

It was too much.

How was he supposed to go on like this, for the rest of his life?

Once his parents realized the door to his room wouldn’t budge there was a frantic scramble to get the door down. Kicking it didn’t do anything. Ma was yelling for him to open the door. He didn’t reply. He felt bad about it because he could hear his parent’s frantic racing hearts as they tried to figure out what to do.

“Your dad is getting the tools,” Ma yelled through the door.

It was less than five minutes before the door was taken off the hinges and put aside. The dresser scratched the floor when Pa pushed it away.

“Clark!” Ma was still in a tizzy as she pulled the blanket off of him. There was a sigh of relief when she saw he was in one piece. She was still worried because he was curled up and shaking.

“Clark what’s wrong?” Ma asked. He could feel their hands checking him over for injury. He knows what they fear. They were worried that it may be some kind of alien illness that they wouldn’t have the means to cure.

“Clark?” Pa was talking to him now. “If you don’t tell us what’s wrong then we can’t help.”

Not that they could help even if they knew. Even though he was surrounded by all these people, he knows that he has an isolated existence. He can’t even think of a way to explain to the people around him what he goes through. And there was no use in complaining about it, because there wasn’t a way for the problem to be resolved.

“Clark?” Ma was more worried than ever. Clark shook his head to try and signal that it was nothing, but he already knew that it wouldn’t work.

He just needed time to let this pass. Once the heat went away he could focus on his hearing. He just needed time. He kept reciting it over and over again in his head as he attempted to calm down.

Ma stayed with him as much as she could. Eventually, she would have to leave to help tend to the fields and feed the animals. She would rub his back and try to coax him to talk. At some point, a doctor was called. The same doctor that came when Clark started showing signs of having special abilities. This man was a friend of the family and had sworn to keep Clark’s situation a secret.

Like always, even the doctor didn’t know what was wrong.

“I’m sorry Jon,” The doctor said. “I have no idea what’s wrong with him.”

“It’s alright. Thanks for coming down on such short notice.” Pa sighed. “He’s just been in so much pain these past few days. We can’t even get a word out of him.”

“I’m sure he’ll be okay,” The doctor told him in a hushed voice. “It might me some kind of biological metamorphosis.”

“Metamorphosis?” Ma sounded worried now.

“We’re not really sure what he is. For all we know, he may be coming out of a juvenile stage and is changing to take on a different form.”

There was a hush amongst the adults, but the rapid heartbeats were what let Clark know they were worried. They were worried that he might not look human when this was all done.

If he wasn’t so concentrated on keeping his heat vision at bay, he would explain to them what was wrong and why he couldn’t move.

It was a total of three weeks before he managed to contain his abilities through sheer willpower. His body ached from being in the same position but he managed to stretch out his limbs and sit up. He kept his hearing funneled into the room so everything outside of its wall was a dull roar. Sometimes he would let his mind slip and some of the noise would get in, but he was learning to cope with it better.

Ma was asleep at the foot of his bed and Pa was sitting on the floor, back to the wall. There was a book open on his lap. He must have fallen asleep reading it. Clark felt bad about making his family put everything on hold while he went through this. He laid back down and let them sleep. He didn’t want them to wake up and he wasn’t there. At least it was the weekend and he wouldn’t have to go to school. He still had a migraine, and it was hard to concentrate like that.

Needless to say, his parents were overjoyed to see that he was finally moving. Ma insisted that he eat, and Clark didn’t have it in him to tell her that he wasn’t hungry. He never was.

“You were out for a month,” Ma said while stroking his hair. “I’m just so glad you got up.”

Clark was expecting to be hugged and kissed every time his parents could get their hands on him. He was right. He was being treated like a king. All his favorite foods were on the menu and his parents didn’t tell him no to anything. At the same, he felt bad about having them wait on him hand and foot.

He also had a lot of class work that he missed. Pete and Lana came over to help him with everything. Once he had a got the hang of it, the rest of the worksheets were a breeze. His school work always came easy for him.

“It’s not as hard as you made it sound,” Clark sighed in relief as he put the last of his school papers in a stack. He would turn them in on Monday.

“I thought it was hard,” Pete rolled his eyes. “Guess that means you can tutor me then.”

“Don’t be mean,” Lana sighed. “He just got better.”

“He looks pretty healthy to me,” Pete poked Clark’s face.

“Because he had time to rest. If you’re having trouble with the work then you should go talk to the teacher.”

Clark stayed quiet as he watched the two bicker back and forth. They were being playful, so he found no reason to step in. He was content to let them mock each other with silly faces until Lana stopped first.

“I almost forgot,” She started to rummage through her backpack. “Letters came in while you were gone.” She pulled out an envelope and handed it to Clark.

He couldn’t fight the smile on his face. This was a lot sooner than he expected Bruce to reply.

“Thank you,” Clark smiled as he started to delicately open the envelope.

_ Dear Clark, _

_ First of all, I’m glad to hear that you are doing well and that you had a good vacation. My vacation was also enjoyable. _

_ I spent most of my vacation with my butler, Alfred. We decorated the house a few days before Christmas. I got a lot of presents. During vacation, I also went ice skating for the first time. I didn’t want to do it at first. Alfred made me do it last minute. I wasn’t expecting to like it, but I did. I got pretty good at it after a few hours of practice. _

_ There’s not much to talk about. Things have been kind of boring over here. I have to go to a lot of official parties and things like that. There are a few kids my age that go too, but we’re not really close since they come from out of town to attend. But with the holiday season almost over, I won’t have too much more to go to. _

_ I’m hoping that spring comes soon. Winter in Gotham can be really bad. We already have a lot of snow on the ground and the weather man said that we should be expecting more soon. I just want it to be warm again. _

_ Yours Truly, _

_ Bruce _

Clark read the letter quickly, quicker than normal. It must have only taken him a few seconds to process everything in the letter. Normally he would be worried about his powers, but after what this last month has been like he couldn’t find it in him to care. So what, he could read fast? As long as it didn’t become something he had to control he was fine.

He was more focused on trying to stop himself from smiling. He didn’t know what Bruce looked like. It didn't stop him from trying to imagine what he must look like trying to ice skate for the first time. He remembers his own first time trying to roller-skate and how ridiculous he looked. It must have been the same for Bruce. But unlike him, Bruce seems to be getting better.

He kind of wished that Bruce was here so they could talk about it instead of having these long pauses in their conversation. All the same, he picked up his pen and started to write.

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Clark. I can't seem to give him a break. But yeah, more to come soon!


	5. Tongue Tied

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce get's some advice from Harvey and receive a very important call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first appearance of Harvey in this little series! I hope you guys like the way I wrote the younger him.

____

Bruce would never have thought that a pen-pal program would lead him to his best friend. He was always looking forwards to the letters Clark would send. He still remembers the first year of awkward letters. They were friendly and conversational, but still a touch impersonal.

But Clark’s were always open and full of excitement. His handwriting would become an almost unreadable scrawl across the paper. He told Bruce about how his days were and ask many follow up questions to Bruce’s last letter.

Clark seemed nice enough on paper. Part of Bruce wanted some kind of face to face interaction so he could see Clarks’ face and get a better read on him. He wanted to know if this was just an assignment to Clark, or if he was trying to reach out. Even without being able to confirm anything, Bruce found himself trusting him.

Clark had suggested getting to know some of the kids at the events better so they weren’t so boring. Bruce took his advice. Alfred seemed pleased at the change: Bruce hadn’t extended himself the way he used to since the incident.

He had started a rewarding friendship with a boy named Harvey. There was another kid named Oliver that he talked to sometimes, but Oliver’s family was always out of the country so he didn’t see much of him when parties came around. He thinks it was their way of avoiding the event season.

Harvey was nice enough. He invited Bruce on a few playdates and they were becoming fast friends. They didn’t have a lot of the same interests, but they had a good time together. The one thing they agreed on was sports, they both wanted to try out for a team this year. Bruce said soccer and Harvey mentioned field hockey. Harvey talked him into trying out with him.

Harvey was easy to talk to, easy to get along with. He was one of the few people that Bruce didn’t find himself questioning if they wanted to spend time with him. Harvey was attentive, hung off of every word Bruce said and listened. His gaze was intense, to say the least. They were only in high school and Harvey had mastered how to look at someone from under his eyelashes in the most flirtatious manner.

A few months into the school year and Bruce was able to report to Clark that he had successfully joined the field hockey team. Clark cheered him on through his letter and told him about his own endeavors with football.

“ _ I’m not that good _ ,” Clark had written. “ _ I think they just want me on the team because I’m the biggest kid in my class _ .”

Bruce reread that part a few times. He wondered if Clark meant big as in weight, build, or height. He couldn’t bring himself to ask. This one small detail was helping him to get a better idea of Clark. He imagined a huge comic book nerd held up in his room on the weekends when he didn’t have farm work and took to the sports fields after school.

He smiled at the thought of it. He wondered if Clark was using the letters to put together what kind of person Bruce was as well. He liked to think that the answer was yes. They were still writing to each other even though the program had ended. That has to mean something, right?

Bruce stopped bringing his letters to Alfred and became a lot more honest when he wrote. No one would see these letters besides Clark, so it was okay to say things that he might not want Alfred to know about. For example, sometimes after school he and Harvey take a shortcut to the bus station that Alfred wouldn’t approve of. In turn, Clark told Bruce about how he and his friends sometimes hang out at the junkyard and drink.

The last part had taken Bruce by surprise. Clark always sounded so clean cut. The idea of him participating in underage drinking was…well, it wasn’t like he could be critical of it. He had his fair share of liquor as well. It was because it was Clark that it made him frown a bit, yet he was excited when he heard about it, and wanted to know so much more.

He looked forwards to Clark's letters in the mail. He would get one once a month, but sometimes it took longer if he was busy. When it came time to harvest or tend the fields so the crops could be rotated, it would take Clark longer to respond. His handwriting would be big and loopy and his responses were curt. It was clear he was writing even though he was exhausted. Sometimes there were even a few dirty finger prints. It must mean Clark wrote to him before he got all the dirt off of himself.

It was touching because Bruce couldn’t bring himself to write once he got back in from practice or a game. He would crawl into bed before he would even consider showering. The next day he would get up and start composing his letter.

Bruce was more than a bit excited to tell Clark that they were a step closer to the championship. He had to wait for Clark to reply before he could send him the good news. Until then he made sure to catalog everything in his mind so he could tell him about it.

“We’re gonna wreck that team next game!” Harvey declared as they entered Bruce’s home. Harvey had invited him over a few times, and he figured it was only polite to do the same once in awhile. It was starting to become routine. This time it was Bruce’s turn to have Harvey over. 

“We barely won the last game,” Bruce reminded him. “Aren’t these guys undefeated so far? They haven’t lost a game in the last four years.”

“Have some faith,” Harvey clapped him on the back before he stopped in the entryway to take off his shoes. “Who knows, we could be the one to break their win streak.”

“I just don’t think being co…”

“Master Wayne, you have mail.” Alfred interrupted him as they made it to the main entry on their way to the staircase. Bruce couldn’t help the way his eyes lit up as he asked Alfred where it was. “I left it on your desk,” Alfred said. “I’ll bring snacks up in a little bit.”

“Thanks, Alfred,” he was way ahead of Harvey now. Bruce darted to his desk, happy to find the letter on the top of his pile of papers. He fumbled with it before he managed to rip the envelope open. He wasn’t surprised that this one was a few pages long. Clark had been writing more and more since the end of the program. He would add anecdotes and use a lot more detail than when they first started.

Bruce’s personal favorites were the doodles on the side of the page that went with the story. The occasional short four panel comics that were added in were a close second. They were by no means good drawings, but Bruce found them cute all the same, endearing even. He knew that he himself would never want to show off his doodles to anyone, but Clark sent him theses without care of his art skills. It was like those stories of his rebellion, a sign of trust.

“Who’s it from?” Harvey was suddenly over Bruce’s shoulder, reminding him that he was here. Bruce started and folded the letter back. He never let anyone else see them, for the sake of Clark’s privacy.

“Huh? Oh, um, you remember that pen-pal thing from back in middle school?” Bruce felt his cheeks color as he tried to find the right way to explain this.

“You still write your pen-pal?” Harvey gave him an inquiring look He wasn't judging him, but also confused by Bruce’s actions. “Why?”

“We’re friends.” Bruce’s voice was a bit more stern than he intended it to be, but he felt the need to defend his and Clark’s friendship. He didn’t mention him to other people because he was worried about their response to it. So instead he referred to Clark as a friend from out of town if he mentioned him in conversation.

“Yeah but, you guys still send letters?” Harvey sounded baffled. “Why not just give them your number and text him. It would be a lot easier.”

Now it was Bruce’s turn to be baffled. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? He could bang his head into a wall he was so aggravated with himself. Instead, he just face palmed.

“Is it a girl?” Harvey asked. His eyes were trained on the hand that still held the letter. “You got really excited when Alfred mentioned it, so it has to be a girl right.”

“It’s not like that. They live in Kansas, so it takes a while to get a response. Sometimes there are months between letters.”

“So it is a girl?” Harvey’s stance was shifting and Bruce moved his arms slowly so he could put the letter behind his back. To protect it.

“No. I just haven’t heard from the…”

Harvey suddenly launched himself across the room and at Bruce. Expecting it, Bruce dodged easily, not surprised when Harvey landed on the floor. But Harvey was a quick thinker. He let himself fall so he was behind him, and then bolted up to grab at the papers clutched in Bruce’s hand.

“What the hell Harvey!” Bruce held the letter up and away.

“Let me see it,” Harvey insisted. He was on Bruce now, pressed chest to chest as he tried again.

Bruce glared at him as he tried his best not to let him get his hands on it. They toppled backward on the floor because of their combined weight and lack of balance. Harvey was grinning in return to Bruce’s glare. He had a longer reach than Bruce, and from here he was bound to get the letter. But he didn’t move. He eventually stopped smiling and just kept looking down at Bruce.

Bruce couldn’t bring himself to speak. He watched the way Harvey watched him, the way his eyes darted from Bruce’s lips to his eyes. He had a good idea where this was going, but he didn’t dare to move. Not when Harvey gulped knowing that he was about to do something risky. Or when he started to lower himself to be nose to nose with Bruce.

It left Bruce nervous as he squirmed under him. He knows Harvey doesn’t like him, but they were both curious about this sort of thing. It had been a quick conversation that was said as a joke, but not derogatory.

So when Harvey kisses him Bruce knows it’s nothing more than a meeting of flesh. It was an experiment to see if he would like it. Before he could answer that question for himself, someone was clearing their throat from the doorway.

Bruce died a little on the inside. He knew it was Alfred. Who else would it be? The butler was giving him the same blank stare that he does when he’s working and they have company. Since Bruce was getting old enough that he didn’t need him to act as a guardian in public all the time.

Harvey was sputtering out some sort of apology. Alfred only replied by telling them what snacks he had brought them. Bruce was relieved and thought that would be that.

“Keep the door open,” Alfred gave a short parental warning before he left.

“Sorry,” Harvey apologized. “I should have just asked if I wanted to see what the letter said.”

That was no longer the big issue, but he just waved it off. It didn’t matter because Harvey never tried to kiss him again.

On a brighter note, he finally mustered up the courage to put his number in the next letter. The waiting killed him. But he had no doubt that as soon as Clark saw the number that he would send him a text.

Then one day his phone rang. It wasn’t a saved number but the caller ID did display KS, Smallville.

“Holy…” Bruce picked it up without thinking. “Clark?”

“B-bruce, h-hey. I-It’s me.”     

And Bruce felt himself melting when he heard Clark’s voice. That thick Midwestern accent was doing things to him, things that he didn’t know were possible. Dear lord, his stomach was doing flips. He wasn’t sure what to say.

“Hey,” Bruce found himself fumbling for words.

“D-did I call at a bad t-time?” Clark asked. The sounds of pots and pans clanking together could be heard in the background. There were two other voices as well, and man and a woman who were talking.

“No, no. It’s fine. I was just…ya know expecting a text or something.”

“Oh, I-I don’t h-have a cell phone so I-I can only call from the house phone.”

“That’s fine,” Bruce’s fingers flexed in the bed sheets. He could tell from the way Clark’s voice cracked that he was unsure of this call, maybe even regretting it. “I’m not doing anything right now. What’s up?”

“N-not much. I just got home from a g-game and saw your letter.” Clark let out a small sigh as if he was troubled. “And your number was t-there so I t-thought I would give you a call.”

“How’d it go?” Bruce asked. It seemed like the polite thing to do. And he wanted to keep the conversation going. He wanted to hear more of Clark’s voice.

“It was alright. We l-lost so we didn’t qualify for th-the ch-championship.”

“There’s always next year,” Bruce still wasn’t sure what to say. Truth be told he was never good when it came to phone conversations. He found it hard to hold a conversation when he couldn’t read the other person's face. It was why it took him a while to warm up to the process of writing letters. At least with literature, he could see Clark’s handwriting and see the emotion in the way he formed his words.

“That’s what-t I said, but…” Clark paused, “I was just hoping th-that we would get further. The t-team put in a lot of work to even get to where we got. We still do mock games against each other. Th-that can be fun.”

“Yeah it…”

“What have you been up to?” Clark cut him off.

“Me, not much. Practice and school. I don’t have much time to do anything else,” he managed to chuckle. He probably sounded lazy to Clark who woke up before the sunrise to help out on the farm before going to school, sports practice, back home to work more and then have homework on top of that.

It made him wish he was writing this. At least then he would get time to look over what he wanted to say and he could edit before he sent it. He could make it flow and didn’t have to worry about errors.

But he couldn’t bring himself to hang up just yet. Clark was stuttering and stumbling over his words, yet he wasn’t hesitating to talk. He was the one to reach out and make the call. He couldn’t help but be in awe at how open Clark was and how vulnerable he let himself be.

“I um…I got to go. Alfred is calling me,” Bruce caved in the end. He couldn’t do it.

“O-Okay. Bye.”

“Bye,” Bruce hung up quickly. His covered his face with his hands. He shouldn’t be red and giddy, but he was. The call had been disastrous, but he couldn’t help but smile. He finally got to talk to Clark and hear his voice. His heart was still fluttering, and his stomach was in knots. He wasn’t sure why. It was just a phone call.

He flopped back on the bed still smiling to himself. Maybe he would try calling him tomorrow and hopefully he’ll do better. But then there was the worry of Clark not being home when he called. But he wanted to talk to him again, maybe plan out what he was going to say before he dialed so things wouldn’t be so awkward. Part of him still wished that Clark could just text him, but he would find a way to make do. 

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're officially at the half way mark. It only gets better from here! Trust me! Let me know what you guys think. I love reading your comments and reactions ^^


	6. Push Comes to Shove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a new school year and Clark is still having trouble fitting in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter from Clark's pov! There's a bit more talk about him and his powers and what it means for him to fit in and what abusing his powers looks like.

Clark was glad for his growth spurt. He was the biggest kid in his class, which made it harder for kids to push him around. With his powers getting stronger, he found a way to stand his ground. Or more so, he was too strong for them to do anything. He still remembers the first day of freshman year.

He had been hoping that things would be different. New school, a new beginning. But the same group of kids sought him out just to mess with him. The topic that day had been Clark’s new glasses: the frames looked like something out of a Harry Potter novel. Normally he would ignore them until they went away, but today was different for some reason.

The moment he told them to leave him alone, they laughed.

“What you gonna do about it, Kent?” One shoved him, but Clark didn’t even sway from the force of it. He knows his dad had given him a lecture about using his powers, but this must be an exception.

He pushed back, not enough to hurt, but enough to send the kid back into the lockers. The kid snarled out an insult and walked away with his little group like he was bored. It was times like these when he wished he could actually fight. If he had been able to establish himself back in grade school, then he was sure that none of this would be happening.

Now that he was older, trying to put his foot down only tipped the well-established order. Everyone above him was scrambling to put things back to the way they were. Sufficed to say they came at him harder. It was more verbal attacks than physical at this point.

Then a rumor started. He heard about it one day at lunch, but he had a feeling about what it was when he first walked into the building. Everyone was avoiding him. On the plus side, he didn’t have trouble getting to his locker or to class, but no one wanted to pair up with him for partner work. It made him miss having a class with Pete and Lana. The only time he saw them was at lunch for a few minutes out of the day.

“There you are,” Pete collapsed in one of the chairs at the lunch table. “Something happened.”

“I had a feeling,” Clark sighed. If he decided to put some effort into listening to the chatter around him he would have figured it out. He decided against it.

“It’s really bad this time,” Pete tried to explain.

“Did you tell him,” Lana asked frantically. Her voice was just above a whisper.

“I was about to,” Pete sighed. He leaned closer. “There’s a rumor going around that you happen to…have an intimate relationship with your farm animals.”

Clark choked on his milk, “What?”

“It was a mass text that went out last night…” Lana pats him on the back. “I’m sure it will blow over soon.”

“Is that all it said?”

“You don’t want to know the rest,” Pete advised him, “Trust me it’s…”

“Let me see,” Clark insisted. “I want to know.”

Pete sighed as he pulled up the message and handed the phone to Clark. Lana was telling him not to, but he ignored her. He had the right to at least know what everyone was saying.

“Kent is so repulsive to girls and so desperate to get laid that he’s been…” He finished reading the rest in his head. There was even a photoshopped picture to go with it. “I’ve never even done anything to these guys.” He was scowling through what everyone had said in reply.

_ That explains why he was so upset about the cow lol _ , one said. They must be making reference to when his favorite cow had died over the summer. He had been upset about it because it had been an untimely death: some kids had snuck onto the Kent farm and tipped some of their cows over, but one of them had been tipped too far over and couldn’t get back on her feet. They found her dead in the morning.

_ Bet he spends a lot of his time in the animal pen. It’s why he smells so bad _ ! Another added onto the conversation, and used a poop emoji.   

_ Shut up guys, none of it’s true! _ Pete piled into the conversation.

_ Sure, Ross. You’re just saying that cause… _ Pete snatched the phone from his hand when he saw how much of he was reading.

“The point is, these guys are jerks. Don’t let it get to you.” Pete pats him on the back.

“It’s only going to get worse from here,” Clark sulked. He knew how this went.

“Let’s talk about something else,” Lana tried to lighten to mood. “What clubs are you guys joining?”

“Football!” Pete grinned. “I still can’t get this guy on board with it.”

Clark shrugged. He felt like having his powers gave him an unfair advantage. He knows that he’s an unstoppable force to the other high schoolers. They wouldn’t stand a chance against him.

“I’m going out for the softball team,” Lana said. “It’s not until later in the year though.”

“You’re not going to help me with this?” Pete gestured to Clark. “He would be awesome at it!”

“It’s his choice to make Pete. You can’t just force him into it. For all you know, he wants to join the Journalism club.”

“You gotta at least try it with me,” Pete was elbowing him lightly. “Come on, you might like it!”

In the end, Clark caved and decided to at least try out. And he hated to admit that he did enjoy the sport, and he enjoyed being the star player during practice even though he was just a freshman and not allowed to play in the game yet. Deep down he felt it was wrong, because he knew exactly why he played so well.

But is it really his fault that he has the abilities? Can it really be considered an unfair advantage? It’s not like he’s was using drugs to enhance his performance. He was just a bit faster and stronger than everyone else.

In the meantime, he still had to put up with the same group of kids who were targeting him. Turns out, they were also on the football team. He was getting sick of this, but he didn’t want to go to his parents. Teachers weren’t an option either. They had hardly done anything in in middle school, so he sucked it up and decided to only focus on the good parts of his day.

But everyone has their tipping point. Another message went out, but it was an animated video of him and a sheep. People either laughed and made jokes the next day or avoided him. At the time he didn’t know what was happening. He was the only kid in the school without a cell phone, so Pete filled him in as they walked the hallways.

“Why are they even…” Clark was too angry for words.

“You had some stray wool on you yesterday, so they just went with it…”

“Because one of the sheep is sick and I had to give her her medicine before I went to school.” He explained, but he knew it didn’t matter. No one cared what he had to say. In a huff, he started to open his locker having to remind himself, ‘Gentle, gentle, don’t break it.’

As he started to open the door to his locker, he finally took notice of the small crowd that had gathered. They had been waiting for him. Great, just great.

Stuffed sheep, pigs and cows started to fall from his locker. There was a collective laugh, and a few “ew” ‘s to go along with it. Pete looked mortified when he realized that they all had holes in the back end.

“I figured you could use these instead.” One of the guys, the ringleader, who Clark is pretty sure is Whitney, laughed. “Maybe leave your poor farmhouse friends alone for a while.”

Clark hated the fact that he blushed easily when embarrassed. His chest felt like it was being compressed under the weight of all his emotions.Clark hated the fact that he blushed easily when embarrassed. His cheeks were burning red, his lips started to quiver, and he had to wipe his eyes before they could start tearing up.  He was sad, and embarrassed, but mostly angry.

“Lay off him,” Pete came to his defense, “It’s not like that and you know it.”

“Still trying to defend your boyfriend,” Whitney smirked. Pete sputtered something unintelligent in response. At that Clark straightened up. It was one thing to mess with him, but dragging Pete into this was inacceptable.

“Bug off Whitney,” Clark stepped in front of Pete. “You had your fun, now go.”

“What? If you’re so ashamed of what you do then maybe you just shouldn’t be doing it.”

“I said go away.” He dropped his bag and took a step forwards.

“Or what?” Whitney had the same shit eating grin on like he didn’t care. “We both know you’re not going to do anything about it.”

“I mean it this time.” His fists were clenched at his side and he was shaking. If he could, he would hit Whitney had enough to make his teeth rattle in his head.

“I would hope not. I mean, with the way you smell you must not wash your hands after you’ve _ tended _ to your animals.” Whitney laughed at his own joke.

Clark saw red. Thank God it wasn’t his heat vision or Whitney would have been dead, but he was blinded by rage. He felt his arm snap into position before he could process what he was doing. He just had enough presence of mind to pull his punch at the last second and angle it a little bit more to the left. 

The blow left a dent in the wall where the brick cracked and crumbled out from under his fist. Someone had screamed when it first happened, but then there was silence. Whitney was wide-eyed as Clark pulled back and got a look at the damage.

“Holy shit,” Pete mumbled.

Whitney stumbled back to get away. He fell back in line with his group of friends as they took the opportunity to get away. Everyone else was making a break for it as well. It left him and Pete standing in the hallway by themselves.

“Damn,” Pete came closer to inspect the hole. “That’s a good three inches. How in the…”

“I don’t know.” Clark grabbed his bag. “We should get out of here.”

“Like the school isn’t going to find out about it?” Pete quirked an eyebrow.

“Hopefully. None of the security cameras work anyways. Right?” And if he was lucky, no one would say anything about it.

In the end, he broke down and told his parents that he had put a hole in the wall of the school.

“It’s not structural or anything. It’s just by some lockers.”

“How in the world did you manage that?” Ma had her hands on her hips.

“I got into a fight. Nothing happened, though. I broke the wall and they left me alone.” Clark hung his head. “The school is still looking into who did it.”

“How bad is the hole?” Pa asked.

“Sizable.” Clark looked away.

“How many people saw?” Now even Ma sounded worried.

“A lot,” Clark sighed. His knuckles didn’t even bleed or swell. He barely felt the impact, if he was being honest.

“Good Lord,” Ma said a silent prayer. She looked to Pa. They were thinking the same thing. They were worried that someone would figure out that he had powers. Or worse.

Clark didn’t get in trouble. The rest of the night was spent with his parents having a hushed conversation. He didn’t bother to tell them that he could still hear them. He opted to do his chores and get his homework done before he went to bed.

No one made much of a fuss about the wall. The principal was pissed off, but no one gave him Clark’s name so he was safe for now. He was finally able to go to school like a normal person. There were still people avoiding him, but that was out of fear. It bothered him, but not as much as it should have. These kids didn’t even like him anyways, why should he care?

Besides, he was more focused on his academics and football. They had already won a few games earlier in the season, and coach was finally starting to let Clark play. They didn’t have another game for a week, so they were working on having their plays down until then. Practice games weren’t as competitive as the real thing, but Clark enjoyed them just the same.

Being faster and stronger than everyone else had its perks. He had to keep himself in check so he didn’t hurt anyone or go too fast to raise suspicion. Ma had been against him joining, but Pa had softened her up to the idea of it.

“We can’t deny him his childhood just because he’s different. As long as he’s careful it should be fine.” Pa reasoned.

Clark was always careful. He was in a constant state of focus to keep himself from being as strong as he really was. So it was devastating when he tackled Pete and broke his arm. He’d never heard someone scream like that. The sound was haunting. It was one of the first times in a long time that he had felt helpless. He had been the one to run to get the nurse while someone else called for an ambulance, but that was all he could do.

“At least it was a clean break,” Pete joked once his arm had been set and put in a cast. He was finally starting to come down from the initial pain meds. He was a bit less loopy than when Clark first came to see him.

“I’m sorry,” Clark sighed. “I didn’t mean to…”

“I know you didn’t Clark. No one is blaming you.” Pete gave him a dopey smile.

“Yeah but…”

“No buts,” Pete insisted. “It’s gonna heal up. It’s not like you ripped my arm off or you did it on purpose. It was an accident. And the doc said it’s just cause I landed on it the wrong way.” Pete was fiddling with the zipper on his jacket. Even if he could zip it up with one hand, it still wouldn’t be big enough to keep his cast arm warm without putting pressure on it.

“Here,” Clark took off the jacket he had gotten when he joined the team. It was two sizes too big for Pete normally, but it was just the right size for this. “Put your good arm through the hole.” Clark assisted him and zipped it up.

“Thanks, man,” Pete smiled. He looked a little ridiculous in the coat with how big it was on him. Clark had to roll up the sleeve so Pete could get his hand out.

“It’s the least I could do.”

“I’ll make sure to give this back to you,” Pete promised. “Is yours thicker than mine or something? This is so much warmer.” Clark shrugged. He had a higher body temperature, so what Pete was feeling was the lingering heat from him.

“Are you sure you won’t be cold? It’s pretty chilly out.”

“I’ll be fine.” Clark waved it off.

He had a feeling he wasn’t going to see that jacket again anyways.

By the time Clark had gotten home, the sun had been starting to set. Ma had taken care of most of his chores for him while he was at the hospital with Pete. He was still a bit sulky as he sat down at the table to eat.

He went on to play poorly the next game. He pulled back his speed and his strength so there wasn’t a repeat incident. He couldn’t be motivated to go faster even when they were losing. So when they did lose, almost all the blame went to him for not playing his best. He got chewed out by the coach, and his other teammates wouldn’t talk to him. 

“I know what will cheer you up,” Ma smiled at him from across the table where he was still picking at his dinner. He didn’t need to eat to stay alive, but he always did since his mom spent so much time on these meals. “The mail came. Bruce’s letter came in.”

“It did?” Clark sat up straight. Ma went through the pile of mail and handed Clark the envelope. She didn’t seem to mind that he started reading it at the table. Clark was regretting it now: he knows he smiles like an idiot when he reads what Bruce has sent him. This time was different, though.

“He, he gave me his number so we can call each other,” He was more than giddy, but he was also nervous. “Do you think it’s too late to call him?”

“I don’t see the harm in doing so,” Ma smiled. “Give it a try.”

Clark pulled a chair up to the house phone and dialed the number. The conversation only lasted a few minutes, but left him red in the face. Of course, during his first conversation with Bruce his speech impediment decided to rear its ugly head. He couldn’t believe he stuttered and bumbled his way through that whole conversation.

But he still couldn’t fight back the smile on his face. He long ago decided to stop denying that just seeing Bruce’s letters made him happy. Seeing his handwriting and the way he put his phrases together made his heart race.

Clark found himself exposing more of him than he ever intended to in the letters they sent back and forth. He had told Bruce things that he never planned on telling anyone. It was the most intimate relationship he’d ever had with anyone. He just wished his could tell him about his powers, but for right now, what they had was enough.

~.~.~.~.~

“Fall festival is coming up,” Lana was helping him pick apples off of the few trees they had that beared fruit. Pete was sitting not far away from them.

“You’re going?” Pete snorted. “That thing is for kids.”

“It’s what you make it,” Lana argued.

“I was going to go,” Clark said. “I was gonna help Ma and Pa with our booth.” Every year the Kents sell jams and knitwear: it brought it a bit of extra revenue for the holiday season.

“Really?” Pete looked at both of them with mild disgust.

“It’s fun!” Lana beamed down at him.

“That’s just because it’s the only fun thing to do in this small town. You know, there are some people who actually hang out on weekend, and not just sit in the fields or drink in the junkyard, but go out to movies and arcades and bowling, actual fun stuff!”

“We have fun,” Lana protested.

“It sucks to be in a small town, nothing happens here. Even you have to admit that it’s kind of boring here.”

Lana rolled her eyes, “Complaining won’t fix anything. Maybe be more focused on having fun than thinking about what you can’t do.”

Pete flopped back on the ground. Clark couldn’t say that he didn’t agree with Pete: there wasn’t much to do here. In the summer there were a few fairs and other activities, but in the cold season, there was nothing.

He only noticed it when he was writing to Bruce. He didn’t do much, so there were times when he had trouble thinking of what to write. And he couldn’t talk much about what he did in school because of his bullying problem. He spent more time explaining simple events in a great deal because of it.

“You’re not going to go with us this year?” Clark looked to Pete, who was still pouting.

“Yeah I’ll go,” Pete huffed. “It’s not like there’s anything else to do around here.”

But it was one of the more fun things to do. Clark enjoyed how everyone was in high spirits for these kinds of events. This particular festival was held around the time of the harvest. Amusements rides were set up, including the ferris wheel. Booths with games and vendors lined the streets of the center of town.

He knows he’s not the only one who looks forwards to juicy candied apples covered in caramel and deep-fried food. Farm animals would be up for auction, equipment could be won in small competitions. The smell of hay and leaves would mix with the aroma of the smoky grill and linger in the air.  It was a peaceful atmosphere. 

The day of the festival, Clark spent most of it helping Ma and Pa stack jars of jam on one side of the booth. On the other side he hung samples of scarves, sweaters, gloves, and hats. He was old enough to man the booth by himself for a little bit whenever his parents had to step away. It gave him a boost of pride. He enjoyed the selling and buying experience, but he also wanted to look around and play some games.

“You can go,” Ma said some time past noon, and Clark was all too eager to find his friends and hang out. Pete and Lana were by the ring toss booth. What Pete was trying to achieve by not throwing with his dominant hand was beyond him.

“Need a hand,” Clark asked. He couldn’t be smug about it since he was the one who had broken Pete’s arm in the first place.

“It’s rigged guys,” Lana sighed. “The bottles are too close together for you to win anything.”

“I got this,” Clark smirked as he picked up the last few rings Pete had. He had learned over the years that to be successful at the ring toss took skill. The ring shouldn’t be thrown like a frisbee. Rather it should be tossed horizontally so the ring could slot between the bottles. No matter which way it fell it would fall on the bottle. It just took a lot of concentration to make sure he didn’t overthrow and that his aim was perfect.

He got it on the second try. Pete cheered, patting him on the back, and even Lana looked impressed. Pete picked out some sort of firecracker looking rocket as his prize.

“There’s still one ring left,” Clark held up the red plastic to emphasize his point as he looked to Lana. “You want anything?”

“The unicorn,” The answer was automatic. Clark missed on his first throw and ended up buying five more rings. Lana said it was fine, but he had already promised to get the stuffed animal for her, he was going to go through with it. Besides, it was only three dollars for another set of five. It wasn’t going to make that big of a dent in his allowance if he splurged a bit.

He came through and was able to hand Lana the toy that she wanted, and it left him with four more tosses. At first, he was just going to leave them. There was nothing that he wanted from this booth. Then he had an idea, an idea that made him flush red from his cheeks to his collar bone. He was so flustered in his own head that he had to really concentrate to realize that Pete was talking to him. He was asking if Clark was going to get something for himself.

“Yeah,” Clark nodded. He picked up one of the rings and focused. It was a flick of the wrist to get the ring to land around the neck of the bottle. He just needed one more to hit the mark as well, because he found that he wanted two prizes instead of one. Again he was pink and nervous and as a result missed the next two throws. It took a bit more determination to keep his mind on the task at hand. In the end, he did it and won himself two stuffed bears.

“What do you need two for?” Pete asked. He didn’t comment on the fact that Clark had gotten a stuffed animal instead of something like a firecracker.

Clark shrugged in response to the question. There was no way that he was going to explain this to Pete or Lana.

“They’re doing that Tractor Tug again.” Lana took notice of a competition being set up by one of the empty fields. It was an event when the goal was to pull a tractor as far as you can.

“What’s the prize this year?” Pete wanders by to take a closer look.

“You’re not thinking of competing again are you?” Lana frowned. “Not with your arm like that.” It was obvious that there was no way that Pete could compete in something like that. The last time he had tried the tractor had gone nowhere and left Pete with a sore back.

“It’s a new tractor if you win,” Pete pointed to the sign with the rules on it next to the signup list. A few people had already put their name down.

Clark took the time to look over the rules as well. Normally he wouldn’t dare to think of competing: his parents were firm about wanting him to keep his powers a secret. Something like this would draw attention to him, especially after the hole he put on the wall at school. But today was different. The Kents tractor had finally given out. Getting a new one was expensive and meant having to take a loan out from the bank with high-interest rates. They can’t afford that right now, but they also can’t afford to not have a tractor.

“I think I’m gonna do it,” Clark picked up the pen still debating if he was going to write his name down.

“Just because you’re a bulldozer on the field doesn’t mean that you can pull a tractor.” Pete tried to talk him down.

“Those things are like 3000lbs!” Lana went on to say. “You could hurt yourself and…”

“Look,” the guy running the contest interrupted their conversation. “We’re about to stop taking entries.”

“I’ll do it,” Clark decided. He wrote his name down and handed the clipboard to the man. If he was last it would make it easy. All he had to do was drag it just a little bit past the best person’s distance to win. No sweat.

A crowd started to gather as it always did for these main events. Only one judge was necessary for this, but one or two more were there to spot anything that may go wrong. The same way there were a few nurses lingering around just in case someone hurt themselves. 

Some of the biggest guys in Smallville had entered this competition. Clark watched as one by one they were hooked up to the harness and took their turns. It was amazing to watch. Most didn’t manage to even make it move, and the ones who did only got it to move an inch or two. When they did the distance was marked, measured, and documented. The furthest was half a foot by the time it got to Clark.

“You still going through with it?” The guy running it asked.

“I’m gonna try,” Clark nodded.

“Might want to lose the shirt. The harness will cut it up.”

“Alright,” Clark unbuttoned his flannel shirt. He was still nervous about how he was going to do this. He had come up with a plan of attack in his head from watching the others. He would mimic their behaviors to make this look believable.

“What is he doing?” He could hear Ma in the back of the crowd starting to make her way forwards. Pa was hot on her heels. They were here to stop him, but Clark was already getting hooked up.

“Don’t pull with your back kid,” The guys hooking him up said it softly so no one could hear him giving advice. “Tighten your core before you pull and remember to breathe. In through the nose out through the mouth or you’re gonna turn blue. This thing hooks over your shoulders for a reason,” he said as he fastened the last strap. “Hold on to them and keep tension on the rope when you pull. Do a running start and you’ll hurt yourself.”

Clark nodded. He had this in the bag, he knew that, but his parents were giving him a disapproving look. Clark just smiled and gave him a thumbs up. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Pete prepping his phone to take video.

“When you’re ready,” The proctor clicked his pen and waited.

Clark took a deep breath and a few steps forwards to put tension on the ropes like he had been instructed. He braced his hands on the shoulder straps. Now came the fun part.

Acting!

He took another deep breath as he tightened his core. He used the slightest bit of strength, like when he hugged his parents, as he started to pull. He grit his teeth and put everything he had into straining his muscles to look like he was trying his hardest. And he was. It was taking everything in him to make it look like he was straining under physical exertion. It took everything in him to make his muscles strain and his veins protrude from his neck. He breathed through his nose like an angry bull.

The proctor was shaking his head but allowed him to continue.

Finally, he let out a strained cry as he allowed himself to take a step forward and finally start to move the thing. It happened slowly, step by step. Each time his foot went down he made his body shake and his knees tremble like he was ready to collapse. In reality, he could send this tractor to the moon with a flick of his pinky.

The crowd was cheering him on as he approached the furthest mark. One more step and he got it just over the longest distance. It was only half an inch, but it was enough to win. He let himself collapse like his body just couldn’t do it anymore. He made sure to get some dirt on himself to try and cover up the fact that he wasn’t sweating. He would have to pour a bottle of water over his head as soon as possible to give the full affect. Panting and gasping he put his head to the dirt and laid there while the guy running the thing unhooked him.

He was greeted by a slap on the back as the guy grinned at him and said, “Didn’t think you had it in ya, but ya won kid.”

“I did?” He tried to sound daze.

“Yeah by the skin of your teeth but you did it.”

Clark beamed and looked to his parents. They appeared to be happy, but he knew that look on his Ma’s face. He was in trouble. But Pete and Lana were still cheering him on, so it made things a bit better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you liked it! Comments are appreciated ^^


	7. Guns and Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harvey talks Bruce into going trick-or-treating! Nothing good comes from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Snow day! I'm in a good mood so I'm posting this one just a bit early! We only have three more chapter left after this, can you believe it? Enjoy ^^

**__** __

Bruce did enjoy Gotham in the fall. The city was always so dull and dismal, but in the fall the leaves gave it a pop of color. It was nice, and dare he say beautiful. A word he learned he shouldn’t use in regards to anything since he started going to school with other kids. It wasn’t masculine.

It didn’t take him long to realize that he wasn’t like the other kids in school. It’s why Harvey and Oliver were still his only friends. The Field Hockey team put up with him, but he wasn’t that close with any of his other teammates. It only bothered him when he was having a bad day, and reminded him that he was lonely.

That aside, he was still trying figure out if he would join Harvey for trick-or-treating. Gotham was most dangerous Halloween night. He heard that it was possible to go out and make it home just fine, but he never left it to chance. There was something wrong with Gotham. It was one of the worst cities in the world, and anyone who lived there could tell you why. Crime was a way of life, and if you didn’t learn to get with the program, you die. 

It’s why Bruce wanted to become a cop. He wanted to go to college and study law and criminology, maybe a bit of phycology while he was at it. Maybe he could help make this place a bit more livable, and nicer for the next generation.

“It’s safer if we go as a group,” Harvey explained, “The more people, the less likely someone is to mess with us.”

“Maybe,” Bruce shrugged. They were sitting in his room “studying.” Bruce was at his desk because Harvey had taken over his bed. They hadn’t talked about the kiss since it had happened. Bruce still felt awkward when they were close or alone.

“Come on,” Harvey whined. “It’s free candy, we can’t lose.”

“I’m just not sure yet.”                                               

“Everyone else has already bailed on me. And my mom won’t let me go out if I don’t have anyone with me.”

“Fine,” Bruce caved. He knew he was going to at some point: he couldn’t deny that he was curious about the how trick-or-treating worked. He'd never done it before.

“Awesome!” Harvey perked up. “What do you want to go as?”

Bruce shrugged and swiveled in his chair to face his friend as he said, “I’m not sure yet. Maybe a vampire or something.”

“Everyone goes as a vampire Wayne,” Harvey rolled his eyes. “Think about something you’re into and we’ll go from there.”

“Maybe I am into vampires,” Bruce crossed his arms with a huff.

Harvey just laughed at how ridiculous that sounded and Bruce couldn’t help but laugh as well. He knew it was stupid the moment he spoke the words. He didn’t believe in the supernatural, they both knew that.

“But seriously,” Harvey got up and started to look around the room. “There’s got to be something you would be excited to go as.”

“Nothing off the top of my head. Give me a few days to think and...” It took Bruce a moment to realize that Harvey was by his bookcase where he kept his comics books. Next to them was the box he got to keep Clark’s letters in.

“Don’t touch those,” He was out of his chair in an instant.

“Calm down man,” Harvey must have heard the panic in his voice because he put his hands up as a sign of surrender. “You don’t have to yell.”

Bruce was pink with embarrassment. He hadn’t meant to yell, but he was still worried about his things. He got to work readjusting his books from the way Harvey had moved them. A silence hung in the air. Bruce was too worried that he would say the wrong thing and embarrass himself more if he spoke. Harvey was measuring how he should approach him.

“You like Gray Ghost?” Harvey asked after a while.

“Yeah.”

“Then why don’t you go as him for Halloween. I’m sure we could find his costume in your size.”

Bruce looked at his friend and blinked in surprise as he nodded to show he agreed to it.

“Then what are you going as?” Bruce asked.

“It’s a surprise,” Harvey grinned. “So, this weekend we’ll look around the party stores to see if they have what we’re looking for.”

They didn’t. They went to every store in Gotham and they still couldn’t find one. They took the last resort and looked online, and still found nothing. But that's what Bruce got for being a part of a dead fandom. No one even seemed to remember what the Gray Ghost was.

“We could make it,” Harvey suggested. “How hard could it be?” He was bound and determined to make this happen. Bruce was pretty sure it was because Harvey had suggested it, and he knew Bruce was enthusiastic about it. He didn’t want to let him down.

“Have you ever made a costume before? Bruce asked.

“No, but it can’t be that hard can it?”

It turned out to be very hard.

They found themselves in a mess of badly sewn cloth and hot glue. The boots and the hat were the only things they had been able to get through retail. The coat had a weird cut to the opening and neither of them were even sure how to make a coat in the first place. Even the cape had proven to be a struggle.

“Do I want to know what the two of you are up to?” Alfred asked as he set a tray of snacks on the night stand.

“We’re trying to make a Gray Ghost costume for Bruce to go trick-or-treating in.”

“Is that so? Would you like me to bring you the sewing machine? I’m certain it would make things go alot faster.”

“I’ve never used one,” Harvey admitted.

“Me neither,” Bruce sighed looking at the mess of cloth on the floor.

“Would you like my help?” Alfred offered. He had a small smirk on his face. He had been fighting back a smile since he saw what they were up to, but it looked like he was about to crack. “I have made a few costumes in my day.”

“That would be nice actually,” Bruce admitted. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t just gone to the older man in the first place.

Things went by quickly after that. Alfred took his measurements and started to show them how to go about making the pattern they needed. He showed them how to hook up the sewing machine and how to use it. He was patient as he taught them, and gave them the reins for the most part. It lead to them having to start over a few times when Bruce messed up with the sewing, but before the end of the day, the costume was completed.

“Not so bad right?” Alfred ruffled his hair. Bruce had to agree. It came out better than whatever it was he had made the first time around. He guessed it all came down to planning and having the proper tools.

They had lunch in Bruce’s room after. Alfred went back to the chores he meticulously does around the house. Harvey was showing Bruce the route they would be taking to get the greatest amount of candy.

“A package came for you, sir.” Alfred was in the doorway of his room again, this time he was holding a box.

“Who’s it from,” Bruce got up to get a look at it. He couldn’t think of anyone who would send him a package.

“I believe that it’s from Clark.”

“Clark?” Harvey asked from his spot on the bed. “That’s your pen-pal friend guy, right?”

“Yeah,” Bruce blushed. It was still an embarrassing matter. He placed the package on his dresser for safe keeping.

“You’re not going to open it?” Harvey asked. Alfred also looked perplexed. He was used to Bruce enthusiastically ripping open Clark’s letters so he could read them.

“Later,” Bruce said. Alfred gave a small nod before leaving the two to themselves again

“Right,” Harvey rolled his eyes. “I’m gonna head home. I want to scout out more houses with decorations to see who’s giving out candy. Don’t want to have to draw the map twice.”

“You sure?” Bruce asked.

“Yeah.” Harvey was gathering his stuff so he could go. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Bruce was still a bit flushed: he knew what Harvey was doing. So as he left he made sure to say, “Thank you.”

“No prob man,” Harvey gave one last wave and then he was gone.

Bruce needed privacy to read Clark’s letters. He didn’t want anyone else seeing them and thus breaching Clark’s privacy. Then he needed time to sit and process what he had read and re-read it. Then he takes a second time to look at all Clarks little doodles and comics. Then he needed more time to look where Clark’s handwriting got sloppy in excitement.

But back to the subject of the package. Bruce had gotten up to sit it on his bed instead of the dresser. He wanted to open it but was also apprehensive. What could Clark send him that warranted a box? There was only one way to find out. He pulled out his letter opener and carefully sliced the tape.

“Clark…” He found himself whispering with a smile on his face. His heart skipped a few beats as he looked at the teddy bear that was inside the box. He held it up to looked at it in awe and hugged it close to his face. It smelled liked hay and corn.

There was an envelope at the bottom of the box as well. He sat the bear on his lap as he opened the letter. There were many pages like always, but this one seemed hefty in the number of pages. He started reading through it. Clark was mostly talking about a festival he and his friends went to.

_ I won a tractor! I entered a competition where I had to pull it the furthest and I won! _

There’s no way that anyone his age could do something like that. Then again, Clark did say he was big, and he did work in the field almost every day. Maybe he was strong enough to do it.

_ I’m saving up to get a cell phone since my parents said no to me having one. I figure if I can pay for it, they won’t say no. Then we can finally text each other. _

That phrase was followed by a doodle of a cell phone with a smiley face on the screen. Bruce smiled sadly. Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned the texting thing when Clark had called. He still remembers how sad Clark had sounded when he told him that he didn’t have a phone of his own.

_ P.S I won you the bear at the at the ring toss. I won two, so we have matching bears. I hope you like it. _

“I love it,” Bruce smiled putting it next to his pillow. But there were still something attached to the back of the letter.

_ Also, I sent some of the pictures from when I won the Tractor Tug! _

Pictures? Bruce was curious now and finally took a look at the other papers. He felt his heart jump into his throat. In his hands were pictures of Clark. It was his first time seeing him, ever. Holy shit! Holy shit! Clark was jacked! He was sculpted muscles from head to toe. There’s no way that was possible. Those abs had to be photoshopped.

Oh shit!

There was a close up picture of his face as he held his trophy. He was all smiles and rosy cheeks. And the glasses! They were like something out of Harry Potter, but they fit him. He was so...cute.

Then there was the one that zoomed out to be a full body photo. Dear lord, his breath caught in his throat. Those pants were barely holding onto his waist, they hung so low. He felt something in him stirring like when he first heard Clark’s voice. Only this time he couldn’t deny what it was. The same way he couldn’t deny the shame he felt when his hands found their way in his pants.

~.~.~.~.~

Harvey went as Crossbones. Bruce felt bad because he didn’t recognize the costume right away. Harvey spent about a half hour trying to explain who Crossbones was and what he did. All Bruce could do is smile apologetically.

“He’s in the Captain America comics. He’s a villain.”

“Sorry, I don’t follow the Captain America comics,” Bruce shrugged with a sheepish smile. “But it looks cool. Where did you get it?”

“My aunt made it for me last year,” Harvey sighed in defeat. “Let’s just get out there and get some candy.”

“Sorry,” Bruce apologized again.

“Keep your phone on just in case,” Alfred called after him. “And call if something happens.”

“I will,” Bruce sighed. He knew why Alfred doted on him, but he was getting to the age where he wanted a bit more independence. Not to mention he didn’t want to look like a child in front of his friends.

Alfred just smiled and let them go on their way.

Harvey was right about needing a direct route. Halloween in Gotham was nothing but chaos. Kids running everywhere, police sirens going off in the distance. It was enough to get his heart pounding and make him jumpy. He gravitated towards Harvey. He was scared of getting separated in all this mess. He was toying with the idea of telling Harvey that he wanted to go home.

At the same time, it was cool to see all the costumes, even if no one knew who they were. He was having fun, though he thinks that one of his neighbors gave him a tooth brush instead of candy. It didn’t matter though. They weren’t even halfway done and his bag was already getting heavy.

“I still can’t believe you’ve never done this,” Harvey said. They made their way up the street, dodging kids.

“When I was little I was scared to go out at night. And the worst stuff happens on this night. Everyone is in costume. You can’t tell who anyone is and feeling anonymous leads to people feeling invincible.  They do things they wouldn’t normally do.”

“Don’t get all poetic on me man. Saying Gotham is a shitty place would have been enough,” Harvey patted him on the back. He gave him a soft smile, like he knew that explaining this made Bruce uncomfortable.

“The streets can be dangerous at night,” Bruce gave a more simplified version.

“True,” Harvey nodded. “But right now we’re focused on candy.” He rang the doorbell of the next house.

“Trick or treat!” They both greeted the woman at the door who was dressed like a witch.

“Wow,” She smiled, not knowing who they were. “Nice costume boys.” But she gave them whole candy bars, so it was alright. “Stay safe kids.”

“Thank you.” They both said.

“Damn!” Harvey said looking in his bag. “This is my best haul yet!”

“Really?” Bruce peeked in Harvey’s bag as they started up the street again.

“Hey kid,” There was a man standing in front of them. He was dressed as a burglar, hands in his pocket but protruding forwards like he was holding a gun. Bruce knew he was, he could tell just from a brief glance and he felt his heart catch in his throat. His hand grabbed at Harvey’s arm.

“I want your wallets, and any cash ya got,” The guy said evenly. He didn’t appear unhinged like the other thugs in the area, or as if he was on drugs. He was hunting for the older kids and waiting for them to stray from the pack to confront them.

“We don’t have anything on us,” Harvey said. He tried not to sound distressed. “We’re just out for the candy man. You stopped the wrong kids.” He laughed, but it had a tight, nervous pitch to it.

“Shut up, and just give me the money.”

“Look dude…” Harvey started but Bruce shook his head.

“Let’s just...” Bruce hated that his hands and voice were shaking. He hated being so scared.

“Give it up, or you’re gonna regret it.” The guy warned he put a sweet sing-song tone to his voice. He pulled the gun out, pointed it in their face and slowly took off the safety.

“Alright,” Harvey caved. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the little bit of cash his parents had given him. Bruce did the same.

“Good boys,” the guy smirked as he took the cash. Just to add insult to injury, he reached into Bruce’s bag and took a handful of candy.

Bruce was still shaking as the guy walked away. He couldn’t even hear what was going on around him. He was still shaking, knees knocking and he felt sick like he was going to throw up. The one thing he did pick up on was the cop that was across the street. He was watching them not doing anything even though they were clearly being robbed. Even worse, the mugger saluted the cop as he went on his way.

“Bruce, come on,” Harvey was dragging him back the way they came. But Bruce still felt limp, like he was covered in a wet blanket. Cloaked and heavy, unable to move.

“Bruce,” Harvey shook him. “Bruce.” Harvey slapped him, and this time Bruce snapped out of it. His hand automatically went to cover his stinging cheek. 

“I…”

“Let’s just get you home alright,” Harvey said gently. He took Bruce’s hand and started to guide him. The walk was a daze. He was jittery the whole time. The moment he made it inside the house he felt relief and wanted to make a beeline for his room.

Alfred tried to stop him on his way up the stairs, but Bruce didn’t even pause to explain it to him. Harvey stayed behind to fill in the blanks before coming upstairs to check in on him.

By this point, Bruce had cocooned himself in his blankets. He didn’t even bother changing out of his costume. He pulled his teddy bear close to him and he decided that he was going to stay there for a while, maybe forever.

He heard Harvey enter the room and sit on the foot of his bed. There was a sigh before he started to speak, “I’m sorry I dragged you out tonight. I didn’t think we would run into something like that.”

“I’ll be alright,” Bruce pulled enough of the blanket down enough so he could peek out. “It just…” He sat up deciding it wouldn’t hurt to open up a little. “It took me back to the ally with my parents, and I was just as helpless as before you know? And then the cop that was right there did nothing to help us.”

“We came out alright,” Harvey put a hand on his shoulder for reassurance. “And we had a good time before all that, right?”

“That’s true,” he glanced down at the bag of candy that had been abandoned on the floor.

Harvey gave a deep sigh, “I want to change things, ya know. I want to get into a position where I can clean up Gotham, and help out people.”

“Yeah,” Bruce agreed. “I wanted to be a cop but…”

“Don’t do that. The police department is basically the mafia. Good guys don’t stick around long.”

“Then what can be done?” He flopped back over. His head landed right next to his teddy bear.

“I’m thinking about going higher. Like a political office of some sort. Maybe I’ll become the Major.”

“It would put a target on your back,” Bruce reminded him.

“I’ll think of something.”

Bruce nodded. Deep down he had a feeling that the whole thing was pointless. No one was ready to stand up for Gotham, and the people who were supposed to help didn’t do anything. If anyone were to do something, they would have to be anonymous to avoid repercussions. They would have to be like that robber, wearing a mask and lurking in the shadows.

~.~.~.~.~

Bruce refused to stay in his room this time. He knew if he took this step backward he would never recover, so he forced himself to get up and go to school the next day. He was ready to jump out of his skin at every sudden movement, but he did it. He wasn’t going to let the world defeat him.

Things got easier after a while. He was able to walk by himself without feeling small, but he was more aware, more precautious. He also talked Alfred into getting him private tutors for self-defense training. It gave him a bit more confidence.

And an idea.                        

There was one amazing thing that did happen. It made him forget about what had transpired during the past few weeks just for a little while. He got a text that read, “Hey, it’s me, Clark,” with a little smiley face at the end.

Bruce lost his breath for a second but text back immediately.

They stayed up texting until they fell asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about hurting baby Bruce. But hey he finally got to see what Clark looks like and now we know what Clark got that second teddy bear for. More to come soon. Let me know what you think! I love hearing from you guys.


	8. I Want to Meet You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With a new found form of communication, how will their relationship progress?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that the last two chapters have been downers. Hopefully, this one will cheer you guys up ^^

Clark was working for about a month before his parents agreed to cover half for the phone. He had been ecstatic. He thought he would be in big trouble after the incident with the tractor. He thought any kind of favor from his parents was a long way off, but here he was. A new smartphone in his hand and an unlimited texting plan.

He and Bruce had been texting since he got it. It was nice to talk to Bruce when he wanted to. When he thought of something to tell Bruce, he could shoot him a message. When he saw something he thought Bruce might like, he could send a picture. And Bruce was almost always quick to reply. Gotham was an hour ahead of Kansas, so sometimes Bruce fell asleep before him. Or he was in school when Clark hadn’t left yet.

He was able to talk more freely like this, but they still continued to send letters to each other. There was a certain ease that came from writing with pen and paper. The conversation was more structured that way. He didn’t have to worry about typing while Bruce was typing.

 _“First snow of the year and it’s piled up to my knees_.” Bruce sent him a quick message with a picture attached to it in mid-November. It was a picture of the snow bank that was as high as the car in the driveway.

“All sunshine here.” Clark sent a quick pick of the corn fields that had just been stripped bare. The harvest had passed and now came prepping the fields once again. It sucked because he was covered in dirt from working for hours. His parents didn’t like him using his super speed when he had outdoor chores. They were always worried about someone seeing him.

He was pretty sure everyone was starting to figure out that something was wrong with the Kent boy. There had been too many incidents involving him to overlook. His laser vision had gone off and burnt a whole corn field. He stepped too hard and put a hole in the sidewalk, among other things. People were starting to realize that he wasn’t normal. But it was a small town, and small towns have their own way of dealing with things. In this case, it was better not to draw attention to it.

And then there was Bruce. He didn’t know about these things and only used their conversation as a reference to Clark’s character. Bruce thought Clark was funny, and a bit of a nerd, but in a good way. He liked that Clark had a soft spot for animals and thought it was cool that he wanted to be a writer. He liked the content of who he was, and that was all Clark needed.

“I think he’s messaging Lana again,” Pa whispered to Ma. “He’s got that dopey smile on his face.”

“Let him be,” Ma giggled.

“You think he’s ever gonna ask her out?

“He’ll move at his own pace. He said he was thinking about asking her to the dance.”

“I’m sure,” Pa snickered.

Clark rolled his eyes. He should tell them that he had super hearing. Just not right now. He was finally able to take a break and used it to check in with Bruce.

Bruce had just gotten a dog.

 _“I’m naming him Ace_.” Bruce sent a picture of the small puppy. Clark couldn’t see all of Bruce in the picture, but he could make out an arm. He looked like he was in shape. He seemed to like the color blue a lot because most of his shirts were some shade of blue when he did see them. He wished he knew what he looked like, but he felt like asking would be weird.

“ _He’s cute.”_ Clark texted back. Was it wrong that his heart sometimes skipped a beat when he saw Bruce’s messages come in? Maybe, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stop the smile that covered his face. He cherished each word that Bruce sent him. Even when his classmates put him in a group text so they could make fun of him, he ignored it. He just focused on the messages he got from Bruce.

He wanted to meet him. He wanted to meet him face to face and get a chance to talk with him. Maybe one day soon. He sighed and put his phone away so he could get back to work. Once he was done, he wouldn’t have to worry about slacking off when he stopped to text. Though there were moments when his excitement got the better of him: he would check his phone, just for a second, and respond back. He got a look from Pa at that point and gave a sheepish smile as he put his phone away and promised not to do it again.

~.~.~.~.~

“ And then Harvey fell flat on his face,” Bruce was texting Clark late at night. It was almost 2 am in Kansas, so it had to be close to 3 am in Gotham.

“ But it served him right,” Bruce followed up the last text.

“Lol, you can’t blame a guy for wanting to show off his fancy footwork, Clark replied.

“ _I guess. It was kind of impressive, but I could never tell him that_.” Bruce sent back.

Clark smiled at the screen trying to imagine what face Bruce was probably making. He figured he would be an eye roller kind of guy. But what should he say next? He always felt bad when he changed the subject, but sometimes it felt like they were talking in circles. Introducing a new subject helped get them back to their casual light messaging.

“ _What are your plans for tomorrow?”_ Clark asked. Which was stupid, because it’s not like he could ask to come over or anything. He lived halfway across the country. Actually, if he wanted to he could get there in a single bound and spend the day in Gotham with Bruce.

“ _Not much. It’s the weekend, so I want to sleep in. Maybe catch a movie in the afternoon. What about you?”_

_“Field work and homework. I got some new DVDs so I might watch a few of those.”_

“ _No Pete or Lana_?”

“ _No. It’s way too cold to go anywhere that isn’t necessary. It’s preferable to stay indoors with a warm blanket and a cup of cocoa_.” Everywhere was too far to walk in the winter. Clark would be just fine in the colder climate because of his abilities, but no one else dared to come out and brave the weather. And there was no point in going out by himself.

“ _Mind if I join you_?”

Clark’s eyes widened and he had to pause to gather himself. There were so many times like these when he wanted to let Bruce know how excited he got over every letter. How butterflies exploded in his stomach whenever they text. How he got the dumbest smile on his face whenever he saw something that reminded him of Bruce. How he felt like his heart was going to explode when he realized how much he really liked him.

“Oh God,” He smiled in embarrassment and put his arm over his eyes. “I want to meet you.” He said to himself. “I really want to meet you.”

Instead of saying, that he simply texted, “ _I wouldn’t mind at all_.”

~.~.~.~.~

Clark had this way of making Bruce blush. Bruce kind of set himself up for the situation, but he couldn’t help it. Their light banter was always right on the edge of flirtation. He had to wonder if maybe, just maybe, Clark was putting out signals.

They had matching bears for crying out loud! It was like the cliché of the first date being at the fair, but the long distance version. Or Clark was just that kind of goofy softy who thought it would be nice to send Bruce back something. He means, Clark was from Kansas. Bruce was familiar with the stereotypes about people from the area: they weren’t too open minded about homosexuality. He knows he shouldn’t be closed minded, but he was too worried about getting heartbroken to think positively.

And even if Clark did like guys, there was no way to guarantee that Clark may like him.

Though he took comfort in the fact that they could sit up texting each other for hours. Sometimes Bruce considered calling him again, but he always chickened out before he pressed the call button. He didn’t want to embarrass himself again. He could only imagine what kind of blunder he could manage.

Not that he didn’t sometimes embarrass himself through text, but it happened a lot less often.

“You should be going to sleep,” Alfred said as he passed by Bruce’s room and saw the lights were still on.

“I will in a bit,” Bruce said back.

“Tell Clark goodnight. He should be getting to bed as well.”

“It’s Harvey, not Clark,” Bruce lied.

“I’m sure.” Alfred gave him that knowing tone. “I know it’s the weekend, but you still have to get some sleep.”

Bruce grumbled and sent one last text to Clark before putting his phone on the nightstand. He rolled over so he wouldn’t be tempted to pick it back up once he got comfortable. It was easier to be lulled to sleep when he thought of being curled up under the blankets with Clark, drinking cocoa, and watching DVDs.

He would be able to lean onto Clark, rest his head on his shoulders. Clark would wrap his arm around him and pull him close. They would be able to just relish in each other’s warmth and just relax. He blushed as his mind started to wander. He allowed himself to think about what it might feel like to have Clark’s hand tilt his head upwards so they could stare into each other eyes. What it might be like if Clark bridged that gap and…

He shook his head to clear his mind. His face was hot and pink. He turned over so he could look at his phone anyway. Clark had said goodnight and used a sheep emoji at the end of the message. Half an hour had passed by, so Clark was probably asleep. He smiled fondly at it and found himself typing and pressing send before he could take the time to think about it.

_“I want to meet you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce is such a romantic lol! Let me know what you thinks! I love all the comments I've been getting! See you guys next time ^^


	9. Getting Ready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark replies to Bruce's message and now they're both fumbling over themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's only one more chapter after this one guys! I hope you enjoy this one, Bruce and Clark are extra cute here!

Clark doesn’t sleep. It was something he learned to cope with. Time was endless to him, and watching the sun rise and set had become a way of life. He did learn that he needed to rest, so instead, he would go into a deep meditative state. He would look inwards to block out the sound and his other senses as he decompressed from the day. He knew it wasn’t the same, but he noticed the difference in his cognitive function on nights when he took the time to meditate and nights when he didn’t. He had earned to refer to this as sleep.

So when his phone went off after Bruce said goodnight, he ignored it. He figured that it was just one of the kids from school being a jerk. He focused on his breathing as he floated over his bed draped in his blankets. He found his zen, and let himself drift.

When the sun started to come over the horizon his eyes would open and he’d sit up and let himself descend onto the bed. The blankets were still wrapped around his shoulders as he grabbed for his phone to check the time.

He had a bunch of messages, mostly from the nasty group chat he got stuck in. But at the bottom of it all was a text from Bruce. His eyes widened as he read it again and again.

Bruce wanted to meet him. Bruce wanted to meet him!

Bruce wanted to meet him!

Wow! Yes! He rushed down to the kitchen where his parents were already working on breakfast. He’d gone so fast that there was a gust of wind that followed his arrival. There was a bit of a racket as plates and forks skid across the table from the sudden rush of air. It startled both of his parents and they didn’t hear when he first told them the big news.

“Sorry,” he apologized.

“You’re bright eyed and bushy tailed this morning,” Pa smiled as he put things back in place.

“Bruce wants to meet me,” He repeated. “He said he wants to meet me.”

“That’s great honey,” Ma was fixing her hair back into a bun.

“Can I?” He realizes they weren’t understanding that he was trying to ask for permission. “I mean, what if he asks me to go to Gotham. Would I, I mean…” He knows his parents are worried about him going out into the city. Even if his powers weren’t a factor, they would still be hesitant to let him go. They didn't think he would adjust well.

“Let’s work out a time and a place,” Ma said. “Maybe he wants to come here.”

Clark nodded, hastily texting Bruce back. It took about thirty minutes for them to work out a tentative plan. It was the one time that Ma and Pa were okay with him texting at the table. In the end, Bruce insisted on being the one to come to Kansas. He said he liked the idea of getting away from the city. Even after Clark warned him that there wasn’t much to do in Smallville, he still wanted to come. They then decided that summer break would be the best time.

He was giddy and excited. He was going to meet Bruce, he was finally going to meet him face to face. It’s all he wanted to talk about for a few days. It was killing him not to say anything about it to Pete and Lana. He was too embarrassed to let them know that his pen-pal from all those years ago was coming over. He couldn’t explain why, but it was how he felt, and he couldn’t ignore those feelings

But he would have to tell them at some point. Bruce was going to be here in the summer, and he wanted them all to hang out together. So by the time spring came around, he broke down and explained it to them.

“You’ve been talking to him this whole time and never mentioned it?” Pete wasn’t mad, but he was surprised.

Clark only shrugged and said, “It never came up.”

“But you guys are good friends?” Pete asked. “Good enough that he wants to come all the way from Gotham to Smallville to meet you?”

“And you guys text?” Lana jumped in. “Is that why you suddenly wanted a cell phone?”

“We’ve never stopped writing each other,” Clark shrugged. “And we’re good friends, and having a phone makes it easier to keep in contact.”

Pete gave a small scowl. His face twisted to show his clear dislike of the situation, but it softens as quickly as it showed up. Lana was giving him a knowing smile. And it made Clark blush as he tried to explain it.

“A-and he’s pretty cool. We like a lot o-of t-the same st-stuff and he also likes Gray Ghost. He j-just got a dog and…”

“You don’t have to defend it,” Lana held up a hand to stop him from rambling. “I’m just glad we’ll get to meet this guy since you like him so much.”

And just like that Clark was red in the face. She didn’t have to put it like that. It was like she could see right through him and knew how Clark felt. It made him wonder if he was that obvious to everyone. What if his parents…

“We’ll he better like roller skating, cause that’s all we can do in the summer,” Pete grumbled.

“There’s also the drive-in movie series,” Lana chimed in. “And the fair and some of the roller-derby teams come through here.”

Clark shrugged like he hadn’t been thinking about all this stuff for a while now. He knows he wanted to show Bruce the lake that was way past the fields behind his house, and the movies were a given. But the way Lana was talking, she was thinking of group activates for the four of them to do together. Which he wasn’t against, but he figured for the first few days he could have Bruce all to himself.

~.~.~.~.~

Being brave did have its perks.

There was the initial regret after he sent the text. He spent most of his time waiting for a response. He tossed and turned, got up to pace, and stared at the screen waiting for it to light up with a response. He fell asleep a few hours into the wait.

He was awoken not much longer by Clark’s response.

“ _Me too! When do you want to meet?”_

“Holy shit,” He cussed under his breath as he tumbled out of bed. His feet got tangled in the blankets and he almost face-planted. He recovered and managed to get down the hall to Alfred’s room. The butler wasn’t there, and Bruce had to go all the way across the house and down the stairs to find him.  

“Don’t get mad,” He realized that was the worst way to start off.

“What did you do?” Alfred quirked an eyebrow.

“I was texting Clark last night…”

“I thought you said it was Harvey?” Alfred smirked catching Bruce in his lie from last night. Normally Bruce would be upset by his blunder, but right now he didn’t care.

“And he wants to meet up sometime.”

“I see.”

“So, I was wondering if I could go to Kansas, and you know, finally meet him.”

“I don’t see why not. Are his parents okay with the idea, or are you guys just planning your own private getaway?”

“Uh…give me a second.” Bruce set to work texting Clark.

“ Maybe during summer vacation,"  Bruce text back. “ _Alfred wants to know if your parents think it’s a good idea._ ”

 _“They gave me the green light_ !” Clark added a smiley emoji to the end of his message. “ _What’s Gotham like in the summer anyways?”_

Bruce frowned at that. Gotham’s crime rate spiked in the summer. He didn’t want to have Clark come that far just to get mugged.

“ _I was thinking I could come to Kansas…”_

“ _You sure? There’s not much to do around here. It’s a pretty rural area._ ”

“ _I don’t mind getting away from the city for a bit. It could be fun_.” Besides, he doubts Clark's family could afford to be shorthanded on the farm. Not to mention that traveling was expensive.

“Summertime.” Bruce finally looked up from his phone. “And we could go to Kansas.”

“You don’t have anything important besides summer work to do around that time, so I guess it's fine. You two figure out a date and I’ll schedule the pilot.”

~.~.~.~.~

“ _Why is there only one Motel in Smallville?”_ Bruce text as he and Alfred were looking at rooming accommodations.

 _“Idk. We’re a small town. The Motel is really only used for hook-ups_.”

_“Ew.”_

_“If you guys are having trouble finding a place, you could just stay with us. We have a spare room.”_

_“You sure?”_

_“I just asked Pa, and he said it was alright_.”

_“Thanks.”_

_“Just a warning, though. roosters don’t just crow in the morning. It’s whenever they’re awake, and they’re awake early. Like sometimes four am kind of early.”_

_“I can sleep through anything.”_

_“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”_

~.~.~.~.~

“ _Should I bring an air mattress_ ?” Bruce asked out of the blue. “ _Or would that take up too much room_?” It occurred to him while he was packing. He had no idea if Clark’s place could accommodate for the extra furniture he had planned on packing.

 _“We have a spare mattress. I was just gonna put it in my room for you_.”

Bruce read the message and read it again. He would be staying in Clark’s room?

“ _You mean in your room?”_ He found himself asking for clarification with shaky fingers _._

 _“Yeah. It’s in the attic, so there’s more than enough space_.”

 _“Alright. I just wanted to double check. Just started to put together my packing check list_.” He lied. He’d had his list for a while, and had been steadily adding on for the past few weeks. The school year had just ended, and the date for their meeting was creeping up on him.

~.~.~.~.~

“So you’re finally going over to meet him?” Harvey insisted on sitting on Bruce’s suitcase to help him close it, even though he didn’t have to.

“Yeah.”

“I thought you would be more excited than jittery?”

It was the night before his flight and his nerves were starting to get to him. He considered saying he was sick and that he would have to reschedule on more than one occasion. In the end, he decided against it. He had been waiting for so long to finally meet him that it would be stupid to back out.

“I am.”

“Are you worried he’s gonna be ugly or something?” Harvey asked.

“Why is that even…No, I’m not worried. I know what he looks like.”

“You guys exchanged selfies?”

“Kind of…he sent me some pictures from this competition he won.” He looked away blushing. He had the pictures stashed away, but every time he remembered what he had done  while looking at them, on more than one occasion, it embarrassed him.

“And you never sent anything back?” Harvey’s eyebrows shot up.

“I didn’t think to at the time.”

“How’s he supposed to recognize you at the airport?” Harvey snatched Bruce’s phone from him and opened up the camera app. “Say cheese.”

“What the hell,” Bruce held up his hand to shield himself from getting his picture taken. “It’s not that important.”

“It kind of is, but okay, continue to lie to yourself.” Harvey shook his head. “Look, dude, mutual disclosure is a thing ya know.”

“I get it.”

“So maybe you should send him a picture to let him know you can’t wait to meet him. Now smile.”

Bruce scowled at his friend. He didn’t plan on giving in, but he knew Harvey wouldn't stop until he won. It left them at a stalemate. Harvey kept trying to snap a picture whenever he thought Bruce wasn’t looking, Bruce kept ducking away from the flash.

“Seriously,” Harvey sighed tossing the phone on the bed to show that he had given up. “You’re so hard headed sometimes. It’s only going to hold you back in the long run.”

“Don’t lecture me.”

“Just putting it out there,” Harvey hopped off the suitcase and looked at his watch. “I have to get going. Good luck. Text me when you see a tumbleweed.”

Bruce didn’t get a chance to respond before Harvey was out of the room and down the stairs snickering at his own joke.

“It wasn’t even that funny,” Bruce mumbled to himself as he put the last few things in his carry-on luggage. Perfect, he thought as he looked around the room. Now all that was left to do was wait. He didn’t leave until the morning. Then he had a two and a half hour flight. He wouldn’t get to Kansas until the afternoon, and the closest airport was a few towns over.

“ _It’s a long drive,”_ Clark warned him. “ _You’ll probably get here late noon/early evening_.”

Great, Bruce thought. He had been hoping to get there and be able to spend the whole day together. It was a bit of a disappointment. Still, he looked down at his phone and glanced through all his and Clark’s messages and smiled. He was finally going to meet him, and that was enough for now.

His mind did drift to what Harvey had said. It was kind of unfair that he had never sent Clark a picture of any sort. He was just worried that Clark wouldn’t like what he saw. He'd never been that good at taking pictures of himself. He should have asked Harvey to do it while he was still here.

He was determined now. He set to work trying to get the lighting right, fixing his hair, changing his shirt, fixing his hair again. The first few pictures were deleted, followed by another ten or so that were also deleted. By then he had decided it was a stupid idea to begin with, and that he shouldn’t have listened to Harvey.

Somehow he finally got a good one. It was overhead, with him looking up at the camera with a three-quarter view of him smiling. Perfect! Now all that was left to do was send it. That took another thirty minutes of debating before he started to load the image so he could send it.

But wouldn’t it be weird to send a picture with no context? He had to say something with it. He flopped back on the bed and huffed as he tried to think about what he could say to him. In the end, he went with Harvey’s idea.

“ _Can’t wait to see you tomorrow.”_

TBC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a cliffhanger there, again.... Well, the last chapter is going to wrap this part of the series up! Don't worry I've been working on the next part this whole time! I'm have everything outlined so it's looking like three or four more parts after this. I'm also working a few other superbat projects, so feel free to check those out. 
> 
> Also, Happy Valentines Day everyone!
> 
> The last chapter is right around the corner so don't fret! And thank you for all the wonderful comments!


	10. Face to Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After much anticipation, they finally meet face to face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! But not the last part for this AU! This is a series, so keep your eyes peeled for the next part.

Clark’s parents were starting to get a full understanding of his powers. When he was excited, it was hard to keep himself under control. He accidently broke a wall, lasered a light bulb in the barn, spoke a bit too loud and made the house shake. On more than one occasion he had been caught floating.

He couldn't sleep last night. His mind kept wandering back to what tomorrow was! He and Bruce had been texting all day while Clark helped his parents prepare. The other bed was set up in Clark’s room and the guest room had been made up for Alfred. A few extra chairs had been brought in so they all could fit at the dinner table. And Clark had been put to work straightening up the last few things in the house since he had so much extra energy.

He couldn’t help it. He was giddy and anxious. He had been waiting for so long to finally do this.

What more, Bruce sent one last text before he went to bed. It read, “ _ Can’t wait to see you tomorrow _ .” There was a picture to go with it. Clark’s heart fluttered and he had to steady himself as he finally got a real look at Bruce. He was handsome, but still had that boyish charm. His eyes managed to sparkle even in a photo Clark would be lying if he said he hadn’t spent a few moments just looking at the picture and taking in all of Bruce’s soft features. At the same time a blush was crawling up his cheeks. He grinned back at Bruce’s smiling face.

Tomorrow was going to be a good day.

~.~.~.~.~

“When they said to feel free to move around the cabin, I don’t think they meant you should pace back and forth, Master Wayne.”

Bruce gave Alfred a helpless look. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself. This flight had been going on forever, and it left him with his own thoughts for a too long.

“What if he doesn’t like me in person?”

“Sir, I doubt that will happen. You’ve managed to nurture a long distance communication into a strong friendship. As long as you were honest, I doubt he’ll find anything to dislike about you.”

“Or we could get there and have nothing to talk about. That would be weird.” 

“You don’t always have to talk. Sometimes it’s better to be quiet and just enjoy the moment.”

Bruce huffed. His nostrils flared in annoyance. He wanted to sulk, but Alfred wasn’t letting him. While he did appreciate it, he needed someone else to be on his side of the worst case scenarios.

“Be yourself, and you’ll be fine.”

~.~.~.~.~

Clark had perched himself by the window most of the day. It took his parents reminding him that he still had chores to pull him away for a little while, but he always came right back. He could feel his heart going a faster than normal; he was so nervous, but in a good way.

Then Bruce texts him to let him know the plane had landed and that they were on their way here.

It felt surreal now. The fact that Bruce was in Kansas and just a few hours away, and would soon be standing in his living room. The sun was just starting to go down now and he realized that he let the whole day slip past him without doing much. Then the anxiety came back. He did another quick check of the house to make sure everything was in its place and that his room was spotless.

“Could you set the dinner table sweetheart,” Ma asked from the kitchen.

The small task helped to settle him. It was one of the few things he couldn’t do super fast without breaking something. He had been given a lecture about running with utensils in his hands. He set a pitcher of raspberry lemonade on the table along with a pitcher of water. Then followed the dishes, one filled with veggies, another filled with mash potatoes, and…

His head snapped up when he heard a car pulling up in the driveway.

“He’s here!” He zipped to the door.

“Clark,” Ma was chasing after him frantically. He was too excited to think about anything other than the fact that Bruce was finally here. Then Ma’s hands were on his shoulders, spinning him around easily because he was floating. Her face was pinched with panic as she said, “You need to calm down.”

“I know but…”

“Sweetheart, listen to me.” She was firm as she spoke, and commanded his attention. “Bruce doesn’t know about your abilities. I know he’s your friend and you’re happy to see him, but you have to keep yourself under control. We don’t need him going back to the city and talking about the kid in Kansas that can lift a tractor with his pinky.”

Clark felt himself slowly descended to the ground as he took in what Ma was telling him. She was right. He had wrestled with the idea of telling Bruce about what he could do. He just wasn’t sure if he could trust him with this big of a secret. He hadn’t even told Lana and Pete yet, so it wouldn’t make sense to let anyone else in on the secret.

“Be mindful of yourself at all times,” Ma looked him in the eye as she spoke. “Your safety comes first. Remember that.”

“Yes’m.”

“Good,” She tried to smile to ease the tension. “Now, let’s go meet your little friend.”

~.~.~.~.~                                                                               

“This is it?” Bruce looked around in awe. Part of it was because they were here, and part of it was because this wasn’t exactly what he was expecting. The house wasn’t run down, but it wasn’t in the best condition either. It looked like a tornado hit the left side of it, and the barn looked like it needed a new coat of paint.

His hands went to the strap of his bag and he twisted it as he waited for Alfred to get out of the car. They grabbed their bags from the trunk and started for the front door.

This was really happening, after all this time…

“Are you going to be okay?” Alfred asked him.

“Yes,” Bruce answered quickly.

“Then maybe you should knock on the door.”

“You’re right.” Bruce lifted his closed fist to the worn wood and rapped against the door. His breathing picked up, and he had to tell himself to calm down as the knob to the door turned and the entrance opened.

“H-hey,” Clark was the one to greet him at the door, all bright eyes and smiles. The picture that he had sent didn’t compare to seeing him in the flesh. Being near him was almost overwhelming. Clark was tall with a wide set of shoulders. He couldn’t see much else because of the baggy shirt and pants, but Bruce guessed he looked a lot like the pictures. But he was more caught up on his face. Clark didn’t try to hide how happy he was to see Bruce. He was practically glowing when he greeted Bruce, and Bruce gave a greeting of his own. Clark ushered them in with a “come in, come in.” He offered to help with their bags.

The inside of the house was a lot nicer than the outside appearance let on. It was clean, and well put together. The furniture was a bit mismatched, but in good condition. The walls were lined with family photos that Bruce was itching to get a closer look at.

He had envisioned their first meeting being a bit…more? That might be the right word he was looking for. If he was honest he was thinking of something more along the lines of a tearful reunion. Something like him finally falling into Clark’s arms. But the adults were here, so that probably had a lot to do with how tame their greeting had been. The adults were exchanging names and handshakes, and asking how the trip went. Normal small talk, but he and Clark got pulled into the fray as they waited for them to finish up.

“Dinner will be ready in a bit boys. How about you get settled and I’ll call you down in a bit?” Martha suggested.

“Yes’m,” Clark nodded taking the heavier bag. “It’s this way.”

Bruce followed along. He was expecting a ladder that dropped down from the ceiling. Instead, it was a staircase in one of the side halls that allowed access to the upper floor. Past the door at the top of the stairs was Clark’s room.

“T-this is it,” Clark said as he set the bag down by the mattress Bruce assumed had been set up for him. Clark hadn’t been kidding when he said that the room was more than big enough for the both of them.

There was a lingering silence between the two. It was his worst fear realized. Now that they were here, there was a certain level of uncertainty, and neither one knew what to say. So he went with the only advice he had gotten for the situation, enjoy the moment. He was hear in Kansas, with Clark and they had a few weeks together to finally hang out like real friends. Just knowing that was enough for Bruce.

He took off his shoes, which he forgot to do when he first came in the house. Next, he took his bag off and plopped it on the bed. There was a rattling noise when he did so and it caused him to remember what he had brought with him.

“Oh yeah,” he almost exclaimed when the light bulb went off over his head. “I brought some of my Gray Ghost comics and DVDs.” He unzipped his bag and started to pull everything out.

“Really?” Clark peeked over his shoulder, which wasn’t hard to do since he was a few inches taller than Bruce.

“Yeah,” Bruce said holding up one of the comics. “It’s the second edition, but it has some of my favorite covers.” He passed it to Clark.

“Wow! I've only ever seen issue 11-15. You weren’t kidding when you said you had all of them.” He sat down and started to flip through the pages. He was going so fast he must only be looking at the pictures.

“I started collecting when I was pretty young. My dad gave me my first one, and I took off with the idea to make sure I had them all.” He shrugged, trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal.

Clark looked up at him, big unearthly blue eyes sparkling at him through the glasses that perched on his face. He had a strange smile on his face like he was trying not to grin and say what was on his mind. Instead, he said, “Cool.”

Bruce shrugged and sat down next to Clark pulling out his other comics. Clark was laughing as he continued to flip through the first one. In less than a few minutes he was passing it back to Bruce. Maybe he didn’t like Gray Ghost as much as he said he did.

Clark must have caught his look because he said, “I have an eidetic memory, so I can read really fast.” He looked a way bashfully like he was embarrassed to admit it. 

“No way,” Bruce was in awe. He passed him the next one and Clark was cackling at the fifth page and was tapping Bruce on the shoulder. “This part, though.”

~.~.~.~.~

It took a bit for them to get comfortable with each other, but now things were going fine. Clark could tell because Bruce’s heartbeat finally started to slow down. It had been racing since his car got to the edge of the driveway, and only got worse when they were face to face.

Now that they were alone in Clark’s room, pouring over comics and laughing over each other’s theories, everything was a lot easier. Ma had come up in the midst of everything and gave them their plates of food. She said they could have dinner up here since she doubted they wanted to be pulled away from what they were doing.

“They’re already knee-deep in comic books,” He heard Ma say to Pa and Alfred, who laughed. “I figure we let them be for the night. Only pop in to make sure they’re not staying up too late.”

“Bruce was up all night because he was excited, and didn’t get any sleep on the plane. He’ll be asleep in a few hours.” The comment made Clark’s cheeks color and he had to focus his hearing back into the room. Bruce had been that excited to see him?

They decided that eating while reading comics wasn’t the best idea. Bruce had bought the DVDs with him, so they cued them up while they ate. Clark tried to keep what Ma had said in mind the whole time. It was hard not to use his super speed or fly whenever he remembered that Bruce was here. He was happy, and want to be able to show him everything Smallville had to offer, no matter how small the amount. He was just glad to finally have this time together.

“I’ve only ever seen a handful of these episodes,” Clark admitted as he laid on his side. The opening theme was starting to play.

“Then it’s lucky for you that I bought all three seasons with me. You’ll get to see all of them.” Bruce was looking down at him as he spoke. His dimples showing as his expression softened in affection. It made Clark’s stomach flip when he realized how close they were to each other. They were alone in his room shut away from the rest of the world in their own little bubble. His heart skipped a beat at the thought. 

It made him think back to that time in the winter when he mentioned drinking cocoa and watching movies under the blanket. “ _ Mind if I join you _ ?” Bruce had asked, and Clark had assumed he was joking and more concerned about the idea of being comfortable in the cold weather. But now Clark realized that when he told Bruce that he wouldn’t mind at all, how much he meant it, and how nice it was for them to be at this level of intimacy.

It’s just a step away from romance, he thought. Suddenly he was nervous again.

Then the show was starting, and all his attention went back to the screen.

~.~.~.~.~

This was the one time Bruce was watching these episodes and his mind wasn’t on the plot or the characters. He was watching Clark, and his reaction. He felt a small smirk cross his face whenever Clark had to exclaim over what had just happened. He was always look back at Bruce with disbelief.

“Did you see that?” He would ask, and there were a few times when Clark would take the remote and rewind back to a part that he found intriguing. A few times he picked out parts that Bruce hadn’t noticed. It was always something odd that was happening in the background.

The sun had set and night was upon them. Oddly enough, Bruce heard a rooster somewhere in the distance. He looked out the window in confusion before he remembered what Clark had warned him about.

“Told ya,” Clark hummed. “Don’t worry, that was probably one of the last ones for the night. “Probably.”

“Probably?”

“Just until Ken goes to sleep. Ken’s the rooster.”

“How much longer will he be making noise?” Bruce asked. They were already about six episodes into the first season. He looked at his phone to check the time. It was a little past nine in the evening. The fact that he hadn’t slept much the past few days was finally starting to catch up to him.

He paused the show, and was about to suggest going to sleep. Then Clark turned to him, bright-eyed and smiling.

“You want to see something cool?” Clark gave a coy smile.

“Sure?” Bruce shrugged.

Clark opened the window, and motioned for Bruce to follow him as he stepped out.

“Out the window…where are…?” It was now that Bruce realized how watching Gray Ghost had been a distraction. It gave them a false sense of peace. It made them feel at ease when they were both still worried about where this was going, how they were going to get along.

“Trust me, it’s fine,” Clark insisted.

“But what if your parents come up to check on us?”

“They’re asleep by now. We’re not gonna go far. Come on.” Clark was already out the window, balancing on the ledge and holding out his hand for Bruce to follow. Against his better judgment, Bruce took Clark’s hand and stepped out the window as well. He was still unsure of what was going on. It left him nervous and a little unsure. But how could he not go when Clark was smiling with a brilliant gaiety gleam in his eyes. 

“Come on,” Clark grabbed onto the edge of the roof and pulled himself up. Again, he extended his hands to Bruce. This Bruce took them without hesitation as Clark helped him scale up the side of the house to the roof. Bruce wanted to focus on how soft Clark’s hands were. He found himself in awe at Clark’s sheer strength and how solid and warm he felt. It was like he was a radiator made of steel. A solid body pressed against him as they maneuvered themself. It was intimate in it’s own way. The way they were pressed together was sensational but brief. 

“What are we doing up here?” Bruce was watching his footing as he stepped on the shingles, trying not to slip. Clark was still supporting him and he helped him sit down. Their upper bodies were pressed together from the way Bruce had to lean on him.

“L-look-k up,” Clark said.

His heart skipped a beat and he let out a quiet gasp as he looked up at the lit sky. Hundreds of stars lit the sky in a dazzling display of light. A deep blue stained the edge of the horizon as it melted into the black of the sky. The moon stood alone in a radiant glow.  It was overwhelming. It was dizzying to look at. He got lost in the moment and feel like he was floating as he looked at a sky that seemed to stretch on forever. 

“Wow,” Bruce laid back against the roof so he was about to look up without craning his neck.

“I know r-right?” Clark was laying down next to him. His hands were folded behind his head to serve as a cushion. “I f-figured it was something y-you don’t get t-to see in t-the city.”

Bruce took notice of Clark’s stutter resurfacing in full force. It must happen when he’s nervous. Bruce came to that conclusion because he hadn’t stuttered that much when they were talking to each other earlier. He did his best to react normally and not draw attention to it.

“It’s beautiful,” Bruce admitted. And for once he didn’t feel ashamed to say it. Clark nodded, agreeing with him.

“I-I t-thought y-you would-d like it.”

It felt like an eternity as they laid there, side by side, just watching the sky. He could get lost as he tried to commit what was before him to memory. Not just the scenery, but this feeling. This feeling of peace and warmth and how comfortable he was so close to Clark. This was something special that he was sure he hopefully would never forget.

He wasn’t even focused on the sky half the time. He found himself glancing at Clark over and over trying to sneak a peek at his peaceful expression and commit it to memory. The supple slope of Clark’s body,  and the way his form called out to him. It looked like he could easily slide over and fit into him like a puzzle piece.

He looked over at Clark, who was smiling at the sky. His body was bathed in the light of the moon. His cheeks were pink, like his plush lips. Bruce didn’t even realize he was staring until Clark looked over at him. The corners of Clark’s lips drooped, but he didn’t look unhappy. He was starting to twist his body so he could turn over.

This confused Bruce for a moment and then Clark was over him. His hands were on either side of Bruce’s head. Though it was quite obvious what Clark was about to do, Bruce’s’ mind couldn’t quite catch up. He was more focused on how Clark was lowering over him with so much control it was almost dizzying to watch. It made his heart flutter.

Those pictures weren’t photoshopped! Clark must be as jacked as he was in those pictures. It was just hard to tell when he was wearing that red flannel and baggy jeans. Bruce only snapped out of it when he realized that they were nose to nose, their lips almost touching. Clark’s breath fanned over his face, his arms bracketed him and his body half way on top so they were chest to chest. Clark’s body blanketed him with an opulent warmth.

For a heartbeat, they didn’t move. They just looked into each other eyes as if to confirm that they were feeling the same thing. It was undeniable that they both wanted this. Both their hearts were thundering out of their chest. With the way they were pressed against each other, they could both feel it. Everything, since the first day, felt like it was leading up to this moment. 

Clark was the one who closed the gap. It was nothing more than a meeting of lips. But his heart jumped into his throat all the same. His stomach filled with butterflies taking flight. He tilted his chin up to seal their mouths. It felt like the world spun during those few seconds their lips touched. It was soft and intimate and he felt like his body was flooded with passion. Then, just as soon as it happened, it was over and Clark was pulling away. His cheeks pink and mouth upturned in a simper.

He didn’t say anything, he just looked away, and his cheeks were as rosy as Bruce had ever seen. He gave Bruce his space and lay down next to him.

“When you come to Gotham, I’ll take you ice skating,” Bruce decided.

Fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End part one! I hope their meeting lived up to all the hype! I can promise you that this isn't the end for these two. I have three more parts planned out and I'm working on part 2 and should be moving onto working on the third soon! Thanks for hanging in there through this first part! Ad thank you for all the comments, kudos and bookmarks. It makes me really happy when I see people are enjoying my fics! 
> 
> I also have a few other superbat fics if you guys want to check those out while you're waiting for me to finish up with this. A Tiny Scandal, is the name of a series of fics, and then there's Precursor which is the first to a series called Solar Flare.
> 
> See you guys next time ^3^

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, that' one chapter down so far. I know the first chapter is a little slow, but I hope you guys stick around until the end!  
> Send me some comments to let me know what you think ^^


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